


Soulbound

by LadyInStarlight



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: 18+, Action/Adventure, Alastor - Freeform, Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Anal Sex, Angel Dust-Typical Sexual Content (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Biting, Blood and Violence, Bottom Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Canon Gay Character, Findingselfworth, Fluff, FlusteredAlastor, Friendship, Gay, Gay Sex, Greek gods, Horny Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Human Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Humiliation, Hurt Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Themes, Love, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Partially AU, Personal Growth, Possessive Behavior, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, References to Abuse, References to Child Abuse, References to Sexual Assault, Rimming, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, S&M, Safewords, Sex, Smut, Spanking, Swearing, Tentacle Sex, Underworld, cursing, findingpurpose, masochisticangeldust, possessivealastor, radiodust - Freeform, references to murder, sadisticalastor, support system, themes of death, triggeringinsults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29281275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyInStarlight/pseuds/LadyInStarlight
Summary: Angel made a mistake. He overstepped. It began with a proposition and escalated from there. One drink too many. He should NOT have touched the Radio Demon. He should not have gone for the gold, as it were.Public humiliation and punishment never hurt so good...or so bad.He really fuckin hated himself for loving it. What was wrong with him?A story of smut, self-loathing, and finding purpose.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), RadioDust
Comments: 392
Kudos: 273





	1. Soulbound

Authors Note: This is a separate work from my Shackles fic in case anyone was confused. Yes, I know, I just finished a 15 chapter Radiodust fic and promised a sequel only to start something completely new and unrelated. Don’t you judge me! We all know I have a problem.

Trigger Warning: so many! Please see the tags. This may not be for the faint of heart. Sure, I want to craft a beautiful story about finding ones purpose and stuff, but my MO is a tendency towards some really toxic bullshit. 

Also spanking. MxM Radiodust 

———

Chapter 1

Angel never meant for it to go this far.

It started with a proposition: “I can suck your dick”. The proposition, quickly and succinctly declined, eventually led to another, then another, and another. Before he knew it, he found himself in a war of words with hell’s favorite strawberry stag, the straight-laced man of mystery whose yellow smile frightened and bewitched so many. 

Some such propositions included: ‘Ya sure ya don’t want me ta ride ya, Daddy?’, ‘Ya know, I really like a fella in a suit. Wanna be my strawberry pimp?’’, ‘Ya look tired, handsome. Got the best pillows in hell right here. Come cop a feel,’ and the ever-subtle ‘Hey, Smiles, wanna fuck?’

Sure, Angel knew he was playing with fire, constantly teasing the uninterested and volatile Radio Demon with a barrage of unwanted flirtations, but he never expected the twisted fucker to seriously take offense. 

Well… that was a lie… but he certainly never expected this fucking bullshit!

Angel Dust considered himself a seasoned slut, a connoisseur of dick and debauchery, but Alastor spanking his fluffy white ass in public, even propping it over his knee for all to see, had the pornstar trembling like some embarrassed virgin. How had this fucking happened? How had he managed to find himself in such a degrading fucking position?

He blamed the liquor. The liquor made him overstep. It was all the liquor’s fault. Sure, inviting Alastor on a “friendly outing” might have been his first mistake, and waiting until Charlie stood nearby, close enough to overhear, so he could use her to peer pressure the other man into agreeing had been… the second mistake. Charlie thought Angel was just trying to “make friends” with the Radio Demon, not mess with his head, and for whatever reason Alastor seemed fixated on manipulating the princess of hell into thinking he wasn’t a terrible, devious prick. It all worked out in Angel’s favor, or so he thought. 

And the third mistake…

With each slap, each sharp clap of that red gloved hand on a bare cheek, Angel sobbed, not pretty stage tears or the silent tears of internal suffering, no, he cried big ugly tears. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt so bad. Never in all his decades of porn and whoring had his ass been smacked so fucking hard. If his dick weren’t leaking against his stomach he might have begged the Radio Demon to stop. The loud SMACK SMACK SMACK seemed to sound throughout the bar. He could feel eyes on him, so many of the other bar patrons, watching with disgust, lust, or sick glee. Was the infamous Angel Dust putting on a public show, they must be wondering.

No, he was being punished for drunkenly groping the Radio Demon’s crotch.

Too much to drink. He had too much to drink. That was his excuse. The dick, bulging in those tailored pants, looked so inviting. Alastor seemed so irritated and elusive. He knew better than to touch. He should have known better, and when the Radio Demon went rigid and his eyes became dials, maybe he shouldn’t have said, “Oh, ya mad, Daddy? Come on, live a little. How ‘bout ya punish me fa it, huh?”

The slow, sharklike smile should have been his first warning. When the clawed hand looped around his wrist and jerked him over the Radio Demon’s knee, he initially trembled with glee and anticipation, especially when one of those gloved hands pulled his skirt up over his ass. Then the panties came down around his knees and the first smack hit his bare behind with a loud cracking SMACK.

And it fucking HURT.

Every smack drove him one step closer to jizzing all over the other demon’s leg. He had the feeling Alastor wouldn’t take kindly to that. The strikes felt so precise, so targeted, he could feel his ass practically vibrate all the way to his prostate with each swat, could feel the fiery burn just above his thighs where he would cringe every time he sat down for the next week. Smack Smack Smack. Alastor was… thorough. 

Fuck, he couldn’t stop crying. 

The cruel hand stilled suddenly, massaging his left ass cheek. It felt like a balm on the heated skin and he let out a shaky strangled sigh of relief. At least it was over. He knew his damned fur would turn pink where his skin flushed. Oh fuck, would it turn… he sheepishly looked back at his own ass, and his cheeks flamed. The fur was…hot pink. His ass was hot fucking pink. He had never been so fucking mortified in his entire fucking afterlife. Alastor’s voice, that buzzing transatlantic accent, had his thighs quaking when he finally spoke, “Now what have we learned today, my effeminate fellow?”

“D-don’t touch,” Angel stammered, a small yelp escaping his lips as a gloved finger dipped between the cheeks and traced the outer rim of his throbbing puckered hole. And it was indeed throbbing. He felt… so fucking empty in that moment, asshole twitching for dick. Fuck, after all that pain he really was sick in the head to want more. “Smiles, please. I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. C-come on. Don’t start somethin ya ain’t gonna finish. Th-that ain’t fair”

“Quite right,” Alastor said, removing the finger and patting his bottom. “YOU are going to take care of this little problem all on your own. Go ahead, Angel. Since you seem so very desperate for attention in that particular orifice, bring yourself to satisfaction with your fingers. You pride yourself on being quite the prolific sex worker. Why not give everyone a show?!”

This mother fucker…

But oh Satan Angel was tempted to do it. He almost did… but this shit had already gone way too fucking far, and the fact that Alastor looked down on him so fucking much made Angel sick to his stomach. No, he wouldn’t embarrass himself further. He tried to scramble out of the Radio Demon’s lap, tried to tug down his skirt and hide his leaking cock from the staring crowd. He could not possibly be turned on by being publicly humiliated, could he? That was the last precedent he wanted to set. However, his thighs were shaking and his ass was throbbing. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t sit. He made it one bar stool over before he just gave up and kinda… leaned on the damn thing.

And he certainly wasn’t turned on by the Radio Demon’s twisted smile. 

Fuck, he didn’t want to know what he looked like right now. His makeup was probably running like crazy. Had he used a good waterproof mascara? No. No he fucking hadn’t. Why hadn’t he used a waterproof fucking mascara?!

He glanced at the bathroom. It seemed so far away.

Then he made eye contact with some gals across the bar who gave him a look, one he understood. Do you need help? Two of the gals in the group walked purposefully into the ladies restroom. One stayed and waited, watching him and Alastor with curious eyes. You could never tell in hell what a situation was. People fucked in the streets. They mutilated and tore at each other one minute and then made out the next. These chicks had eyes, black deep eyes, that offered camaraderie, and he was gonna fuckin take his chance at getting away from the Radio Demon and his flashing eyes for a while. 

“I’m headin ta the powda’ room,” he said in a short clipped tone, not looking at Alastor. “Ya can leave. Sorry I… I won’t botha ya again. I shouldn’t have… I’ve just had too much…” He stopped himself. He sure as hell felt sobered up now after being publicly humiliated and ‘taught a lesson.’ 

Alastor seemed undaunted by his flustered state. 

“Why not have a seat,” he said, his voice almost crooning with malice. This bastard knew exactly what would happen if he sat on this hard rubbery bar stool right now! Angel felt himself become less sorry and more indignant with each passing second, but he would apologize again and get it over with once and for all. 

“I’m sorry!” Angel said, voice rising a bit. He lowered it as more eyes turned their way. “ I said I was sorry! W-we’re even, okay? Ya didn’t hafta…”

“You asked to be punished, did you not?” Alastor said dryly, grin hollow of any playfulness or good-natured teasing. He was mad. Those red eyes, all narrow and flashing, they were still fucking mad. But Angel was mad too.

“Not like that! That fucking hurt.” Fuck volume control. He was shouting. He was fucking shouting. 

“Oh?” Alastor lifted the back of his skirt with the talking head of his cane. It made a cartoonish wolf whistle as he exposed the flushed fur of Angel’s backside. “I wasn’t aware you had hoped to ENJOY your punishment for accosting me. My greatest apologies.” Biting sarcasm. The cane flipped up the front of skirt, exposing his half-hard and leaking pink dick. “And it appears you unfortunately did.”

Okay. Fuck this. This night was a wash. Angel pulled his skirt down and closed his eyes tightly, mentally counting to ten before putting on his most charming ‘get me out of this fucking situation right the fuck now’ smile. You know what, he didn’t need to argue further. He could just let this be a lesson well learned… or whatever the fuck he wanted to tell himself about this embarrassing fucking ordeal. 

“Alright, Al. I’m sorry. I get it. I’ve been pesterin ya fa a while and this was the final straw,” he said slowly, spreading open his hands in resignation. “I won’t botha ya again, alright? So let’s just… well, I’ll stay away from ya, okay.”

“Much obliged!” Alastor said, sipping his drink. He glanced sideways at Angel, seeming to examine him as he collected his things and moved, rather stiffly, towards the restroom. Angel wondered if Al noticed him make a sharp turn into the lady’s room, not that he expected the Radio Demon to follow him, but he certainly wouldn’t follow Angel in THERE. The gender neutral bathroom or the men’s bathroom, maybe, but never the “Ladies” room. His sensibilities would not allow it, of that Angel was certain. 

Angel let himself crumble to his knees once inside the safety of ladies room, only to be caught up by the waiting hands two women who fluttered around him, the third entering only shortly after himself. He was no lady, but… that didn’t fuckin matter. The space was open for him and they lifted him onto a pink couch like he was something real fucking precious and not an annoying whore. Their questions, spoken softly but not pityingly, weren’t too prying, sticking to the realm of “do you need ___”, “do you want___”, and “how can I help?”

Thank Satan for new friends in weird fuckin places. 

He examined these three women. All had a tinge of blue to their skin at varying levels of darkness and hair black as shadows on a starless night. Black horns twisted from their skulls. Black eyes too. He wondered if they just happened to run into one another or if they were related in some way. You never knew in hell. It could be the luck of the draw what you looked like after death as far as he was concerned. Still, he didn’t think they were sisters. One was tall, about his height, but buxom and strong, one was short and plump at 5’2, and the third was lean and of average demon size. She could probably share clothes with Charlie. They all seemed… different.

Yeah, different.

“He did quite a numba’ on you, didn’t he Sugah?” The small one said, her voice sugary as molasses with a rolling southern twang. Her skin was a dark, navy blue. Her smile felt like sweet tea on a Summer’s day. It made him think of pretty, colorful hats in shades of pastel… of sunshine. Nice. Friendly. Warm. “Ya want us ta take care of him for ya? I know a thing or two about geldin’ horses. Can’t be all that different with a deer.”

“Nah, but thanks toots,” he said awkwardly, scrubbing away the mascara with a makeup wipe the tall one provided. “I deserved it this time. Got a little grabby and… kinda asked fa it. Didn’t expect it ta… well, ya know… get away from me.”

“Mmm,” the small one made a sound, pursing her lips as if to argue, but deciding against it. 

“Well,” said the slender one, voice refined and drawling, almost whispery, her skin a uniform shade of robins egg blue. “I did tell you, Marjorie, that they did not SEEM like a couple and that we should intervene immediately, but one never knows in hell. Once again I have been proven right, though it is of no consequence. My dear, I believe I have heard of you. Angel Dust, was it? You’re quite… popular.”

Angel laughed. “Ya a fan of my work, Miss Priss?” he said, perhaps a bit too bitingly. He instantly regretted it, but he couldn’t take it back. Instead, he looked away. 

“Aurelia,” she corrected, smiling faintly. “And I’m a fan of anyone I find promising.”

“We work for the man upstairs,” the tall one said, voice serious and devoid of any extra pomp or circumstance, the matter-of-fact tones of a soldier. She crossed her arms and walked over to the door, staring down a couple giggling imps who tried to enter before looking back at him. 

Angel paused…

“Wait… God?”

They all laughed, and their voices came together like music.

Well, fuck. Was everyone just gonna treat him like he was fucking stupid tonight? A trash whore with no fucking feelings? Fuck these bitches! Fuck them… even if they had fixed his makeup, brushed his hair and… fuck. He just wanted… not to feel shitty. 

The little Southern one who he assumed was Marjorie, placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled so sweetly that he could feel himself unraveling again. “Yes and no,” she said slowly. “A god, I suppose. I think ya oughta take my card, Sugah. We provide a very specific service for a place that ya just might wanna visit, and with your skills in weaponry, leapin’, and charmin’, well, I think you might have a whole lot of fun. And we could use more fun fellas in the field.” She handed him a card, all blues, blacks, pinks, and purples. “Why spend your time always sufferin’ down here, when there is something good and new right up there, Sugah? You can work, travel, get paid real nice, and be independent all while still reachin’ for redemption down here at that little Happy Hotel. I know about that. Flexible hours too. Plus, you’ll find the company we keep is handsome, beautiful, sexy, and sweet.”

Marjorie Mayberry, Soul Deliverer

Hellphone: 666-XXX-XXXX  
Cellphone: 678-XXX-XXXX  
Heavenphone: $&)-$&)-@“&&  
Underphone: xxx-xxx-xxxx

So many fucking phones, and he didn’t know what the fuck was up with the last two. Still, he took the card. What did he have to lose? Cherri would like these bitches. They seemed nice enough, and this little one had offered to chop off the Radio Demon’s balls like it was fuckin nothing. Yeah… Cherri would love these bitches. 

“Thanks,” he said, studying the card before tucking it in his chest fluff. These women, their eyes, though black, did not have the sunken hollowness he saw in sex workers. They did not seem like killers or drug addicts. They held themselves with a strange confidence, not his false confidence. Their backs seemed straighter, their gazes more direct, chins lifted, and he caught a sense of security from them that he yearned for himself. Self control. Contentment. 

Maybe he would give this Marjorie gal a call later just to see what these strange bitches were into. Who knows, maybe it was a fuckin cult! Or something weird, like really weird. He was tempted to pry for more information then and there, but his ass…

Fuck, he had almost forgotten the nauseating embarrassment that brought him there in the first place. His ass was fucking killing him. 

The tall one handed him a couple pills. “Jacklyn. Jax for short,” she said curtly. “This will help with the pain and swelling.” 

“Let’s take ya back to the Happy Hotel, Sugah. I know the way,” Marjorie said, lifting him into her plump arms with a strength that made him yelp. Wait a fuckin minute. There was no way some tiny broad was carrying his busted ass out of this bar. “Jax, is that mean ole’ red fella still out there? That ‘Radio Demon’?” 

Jax looked at the door, eyes glowing. “Coast is clear down the hall but the enemy is still seated at the bar. We can take the spider out the back door. I’ll use my body to block eyes on you as we step into the hallway. Aurelia, can you run distractive maneuvers on the opponent? There should be music from the 1930s on that record player behind the bar. We just need his eyes off the door for a moment or two. He’s scoping. Looks curious.”

Okay, these bitches were fucking weird, but whatever. He decided he liked him. He didn’t have a whole lot of pals outside Cherri and… they seemed fun and friendly… and really fucking helpful. Watching them move was like watching a flock birds flying in a swarm, separate but together, with a purpose and a synchronicity. Aurelia slipped out, and the second the music started playing, Jax ushered Marjorie out of the restroom with him in her arms, blocking them from sight and steering them down the hallway. 

They were out the back door and in a powder blue convertible before he could wonder why Alastor had bothered to stick around. Did he just want to see Angel break down and beg him to carry him home or some shit? What a fucking asshole! Ah well, fuck that dipshit. 

The blue shades one of the gal’s handed him made the world seem shimmery, dark, and surreal. He saw Jax quickly place a fluffy pillow on the seat before Marjorie set him down. Discreetly. Without words. So she was a softy then? 

Did they usually go around helping dumb sluts out of awkward situations? He wanted to ask them, but somehow he got the feeling they would tell him shit that wasn’t true, that he wasn’t a dumb slut or that he deserved… better… from the world. Shit like that.

Shit that wasn’t true. 

He quickly learned that Marjorie was a terrible fuckin driver, a real nightmare on the road. She honked and swerved, slowed and accelerated, and cut between cars all while cursing like a trucker in that pretty Southern accent. What a crazy fuckin bitch. He loved her.

He could forget, for a moment, the pain in his poor ass as those pills did their job. He could forget those flashing red eyes, shifting to dials in an instant of unadulterated rage, could forget that mocking chiding laugh. Fuck. Why did that bastard make him so…

Horny?

Dammit.

Aurelia, sitting prim, upright, and proper in the back seat beside him, offered a little smile. “Well, there is nothing wrong with enjoying the thrill of humiliation, the strike of heavy hand but, my dear, all parties must enjoy the play. There should be trust there, or people get hurt, but I am sure you know that well.”

Oh shit. What was this prissy bitch into? 

He opened his mouth to ask but a loud “here at last!” from Marjorie distracted him. They made it to the Happy Hotel, a mismatched amalgamation of odd parts jutting in different directions. The red building looked like a game of Tetris gone wrong. Angel slid, with effort, from the car. “Thanks ladies. I would invite ya in, but—“

“Oh honey, ya’ll just get to bed and lie yourself down,” Marjorie said, flashing a toothy smile. She had a small gap between her two front teeth. “Call me, sugah, when yer feelin’ better. All those meds should be kickin in to help get you up there and into your room, but what ya really need is time. Time will do it, baby. I do hope to hear from you. I think you’d like the job we do. Jax thinks so too.” The two women shared a tender smile. 

“Thanks, toots. I’ll… umm… I might be callin ya ‘bout that job. I’m kinda curious,” he said, waving goodbye awkwardly as the powder blue car, an anomaly in hell, peeled out in a blur. He managed, through a combination of moving quietly and ducking through shadowy halls, to make it back to his bedroom unseen by Charlie or the others. The click of the door locking behind him felt like the sweetest fucking relief. He edged onto the bed, lying on his stomach and pulling Fat Nuggets to his face, accepting all those sweet piggy kisses. “So, I fucked up a bit, as per usual, but ya know I think I made some friends today,” he told the pig, who offered a mangled squealing noise in return. “Yeah, well, I’d take ya fa a walk but I think I’ll be lyin down fa a while. Sorry, baby.”

He set the pig down and closed his eyes, willing himself to go back in time and maybe NOT grab Alastor’s dick through his pants. It felt… big…

No no. He needed to think of something else.

He groaned and reached into his tit fluff, studying the odd business card. A “Soul Deliverer ” huh? Now what the fuck was that supposed to be? He placed the card on his nightstand and tried to close his eyes, to let that dark shadow of sleep overtake him, but he kept seeing the Radio Demon’s expression when he touched him. Shock, confusion, and then… rage.

Don’t grope the Radio Demon. I mean, it was a pretty basic fucking principle. And when you tease him and tell him to punish you, don’t be surprised if it fucking hurts. All things considered he was probably lucky Alastor hadn’t ripped off his arms. 

He still ached for something inside him. 

No. No. Just sleep. He needed to just fucking sleep.

He heard a light rat-tat-tap on the door an hour later, a sharp rhyming beat. He pulled a pillow over his head and groaned. “Charlie, I ain’t feelin well, so can ya leave me alone fa a while?” He said, waiting for the soft pattering of retreating footsteps. Nothing. Silence.

Then the door swung open, deadbolt snapping off the wooden frame. The Radio Demon, all pep and overly familiar faux-friendliness stood in his doorway. “Angel, my effeminate fellow,” he cried, voice loud and booming. “ I was simply sick with worry after you ‘disappeared’ from our little outing. Tore that bar apart looking for you, in fact. Thought you might have been kidnapped given the… unfortunate state… you were in. However did you find yourself back home?” That grin of his looked strained as he stormed into the room.  
“The fuck? Get out, Smiles. I didn’t invite ya in,” Angel snapped. Alastor did look rather frazzled. He was probably worried Angel would rat him out for the ‘ punishment’. Ha! Now that would be a riot! Charlie’s face, he imagined, would be fucking priceless. He stopped, considered the Radio Demon’s words, and said a little more softly. “I ain’t gonna tell anyone, Al. We’re even, alright? And as I said, I won’t bother ya again.”

A pause. 

“Angel… may I see,” Alastor said slowly, gesturing vaguely towards Angel’s lower half with his cane. He didn’t exactly looked pleased about it. 

“What? Ya gonna kiss it betta?” He said, rolling his eyes and burying his face in the pillow when static buzzed in the air at his stupid joke. “Relax, asshole. Ya can do whateva’. I don’t give a shit. Just don’t make it worse.”

Angel heard the soft click of footsteps, felt the bed dip as Alastor sat beside him, and shivered when a clawed hand tugged his skirt back up over his hips. He glanced at Alastor from under his lashes, peeking up from the pillow. The Radio Demon appeared to be intensely studying the damage. “Well I suppose I may have overreacted. I should have simply ripped your arm off, but that is neither here nor there,” he said, placing a hand over one of the cheeks. His hand felt cool on the flaming skin. 

“Don’t touch,” Angel said simply, biting his lip.

The hand lifted from his ass the second the words left his mouth. “Are you still…”

“Horny? Yes. Hard? No. That answer all ya questions?” Angel tried to roll onto his back but very quickly decided against it. Alastor’s eyes, all red and weird, watched him. “Listen, I promised… I said again and again I’m not gonna botha ya anymore, so why all the bullshit? What? Did makin me cry and smacking my ass secretly turn you on? Feelin guilty now fa bein a fuckin pervert?” 

Silence.

“I should be able to heal you,” Alastor said eventually. “If you allow me to touch you again for a short time longer. Do I have your permission?”

“Yeah yeah. Ya got it. Just no funny business. The bakery is fuckin closed until further notice.” Angel said, closing his eyes as the cool hand returned to his rump. There was the faintest tingling sensation and then… the pain was gone. “Well, fuck, Smiles. That’s an improvement.”

Alastor was already standing and straightening his clothing. Ah, back to decorum. 

“Hey,” Angel said, reaching out and brushing the Radio Demon’s hand with his own. He felt Alastor’s whole body tense at the sudden contact and drew it away quickly. “I really am sorry, Smiles. I know ya don’t like bein’ teased the way I tease ya, much less bein touched. That musta… really upset ya. Musta felt violatin’.”

“No, Angel. You are what you are. I apologize for taking things too far. I am… sorry.” He said curtly, looking down at Angel.

You are what you are… and what you are is an annoying slut. That’s what Angel got from that look. 

Angel curled his knees towards his chest, reaching to wrap the blanket around himself a little tighter. It wasn’t like he went around propositioning just any fella. The customers usually came to him. “Well I— Al I don’t—. Nevermind. Thanks fa healin me.”

“You’re welcome, Angel. Shall I tell Charlie you are coming down to dinner shortly?” 

“No… tell her I’m sick or somethin. Not feelin well.” Angel said, curling up in the blankets.

“You should be fully healed—“

“The inside don’t match the outside, Smiles.” Angel said. He could practically see the wheels in Alastor’s head turning. The man sat back down on the bed, considering him skeptically. This fucking idiot… “Al, fa fuck’s sake. I know ya might not think much of me, but I got pride and dignity and feelins. Shit like that… it wasn’t just that it hurt. I just wanna disappear for a while, ya know? Not think about nothin. Just… hide.”

Dumb slut. Useless whore. Annoying. Weird. Ugly. Sexy. Beautiful. Strange. Bitchy. Feisty. Weak. Drug addict. Gay. F*g. Too thin. No. Too fat. Ugly spider feet. Loud. Stupid. Thoughtless. Irredeemable. Broken. 

Bad. Bad. Bad.

He’d placed the business card on his night stand alongside the pair of blue sunglasses. They seemed to sparkle enticingly in the low light of the bedroom. A promise of something different— something he might take pride in. He felt… so fucking shitty about himself. He felt less shitty when he was hanging out with those chicks. Maybe he would call Marjorie tomorrow. 

Alastor’s hand touched his cheek, fleetingly… uncertainly. Then, he left.

Yeah, maybe he would call her tomorrow.

He just wanted to try something different.

He just wanted to feel good about himself.

———

Comment and Kudos

Would love to hear your thoughts!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Updates and general nonsense, feel free to follow me on Twitter @LadyInStarlight


	2. Mercy

Trigger Warning: Upsetting negative self talk, typical Angel Dust related sex work mentions, drug use, and some kinky stuffy with a belt.

———

Chapter 2

3am. Time for work. He snuck out quietly to avoid notice, moved soundlessly through shadowy hallways, tiptoeing around corners, and sliding out the front door. The dead shift wasn’t always so dead in hell. He had an early morning shoot, and at least now he wouldn’t have to explain to Val why his whole ass was hot pink. Whatever the reasoning the Radio Demon had for healing him, Angel felt particularly grateful to walk into work with his usual white ass. He didn’t need Valentino getting new ideas for kink flicks. He had enough shit to deal with already.

Sometimes Angel counted men in cocks. In the end, that’s all most of these fellas boiled down to anyway. A big purple cock with bumps and grooves railed him up a wall. He thought it would be fun, but its user refused to take direction and the angle felt all fucking wrong, so that sucked. Two slender green cocks fucked him in tandem on a cum-stained carpet. He kept staring at the stain, wondering whose it was, trying to avoid it. A boring basic-ass cock bent him over a walnut desk and ruined his outfit. It spent a lot of time poking around his asshole before finally taking the plunge, so much time that he wondered what the guy was on. He asked Val to give him some of it. He wanted to be fucked up too. Then, 10 cocks he could barely remember— Valentino had given him a little something to ‘take the edge off’— took turns pounding him during a gang bang scene. A rainbow assortment of cocks. 14 cocks total.

After two showers back to back, punctuated by thorough overly-scrubbing every part of his body, he left the studio blitzed out of his mind and walked, limbs heavy, back to the hotel. His ass ached all over again but for very different reasons than the day before. Ah well, at least the shoot took care of his craving for a good hard fucking, even if it had been a miserable experience all around. He certainly wasn’t horny anymore. 

Charlie stared at him when he entered the hotel. Her wide, innocent eyes and sweet features, all pinched in grave concern, made him want turn heel and bolt right back out the door, but the world seemed too bright and fuzzy. “Mornin’, toots,” he said, looking around and seeing Vaggie standing off to one side, arms crossed. Well, what a bizarre fucking welcome wagon. “Ya need somethin’?”

He had just gotten off work. He really didn’t need this bullshit at 8am when his mind felt foggy from drugs and all he could think about was melting into his bed, fusing into the mattress to form one being called Bedgel…he was really fucking high.

“Angel, do you remember?” Charlie asked, screwing up her fists in a show of determination. “You promised to—“

Annnnnnd he checked out. The brocade wallpaper really seemed so interesting, red with those white markings. He squinted at it, wondering about the intricate design. Snake. Apple. Horned demon with tits at the bottom? Was that right? Ha! Tits…

Vaggie’s voice, shrill with frustration, snapped him out of his reverie. “Angel!” He blinked, looked at her fuming face, and stared back at her narrowed eyes and gritted teeth with a look of blank disinterest.

“What?” he said.

“What? What do you MEAN ‘what’?!” She looked about ready to maul his dumb ass. “We’re you even fucking listening?”

“Not really,” he said plainly. Ah shit, Charlie looked so dejected now. He really hadn’t meant to drift off. It’s just his mind was so…

“You’re high,” Vaggie said, tone decisive.

“You’re not?” 

She might have sprung at him then, but the jaunty tunes of a radio curled around them ever so menacingly as Alastor, practically gliding down the stairs, made an appearance. As usual, the Radio Demon dressed to impress in that red ensemble and smiled like a man who ate cocaine-e-o’s for breakfast. The teeth, two sharp rows, seemed to widen at the sight of them all huddled together. Angel thought he moved towards them like a shark circling a school of fish. “Ah, Angel Dust!” He cried, looping an arm around Angel’s waist and spinning him casually. Fuck fuck fuck. “Back so soon from your nightly foray into the pit of debauchery, my effeminate fellow? Wonderful! Perhaps NOW you might help Miss Magne by completing all of the hotel chores you have been neglecting this entire week.”

Angel stopped spinning but the room didn’t. He groaned and gripped his head, grabbing at the wall for balance, but the wall wasn’t where he expected it to be at all. Instead, his hand fell on the Radio Demon’s shoulder. Ah shit. Alastor seemed to vibrate and crackle at the contact. Could he ever catch a fucking break?

He drew his hand away quickly, stumbling a bit. However, a red gloved palm settled on his lower back, guiding him swiftly to the couch. 

“You said you were going clean,” He heard Charlie say.

He could feel hands on his face. Clawed hands. Fuzzy and spinning. The world was fuzzy and spinning. He had been lucky to make it home with the way things kept blurring. Red eyes bore into him, peering at him through the fog. He nuzzled into one of the hands touching his face. The eyes narrowed in disdain. The grip tightened, a pinching hold on his cheek, turning his head this way and that once or twice before just resting there.

“I told you this would happen,” he heard Vaggie say. “He’s high as a fucking kite.”

“Angel, look into my eyes. What did you take?” That transatlantic drawl, spoken more slowly but still with all its refined little clips, made his spine tingle. To Angel it sounded… patronizing. Irritated. Unsurprised. He shivered and smacked away the hand. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. “Angel, my dear fellow. Answer me.”

“I dunno,” Angel said. “Enough ta… make 14 cocks a walk in da park…”

Disgust. 

He could feel it fill the room. They didn’t have to say anything. He could feel the disgust rolling off them in waves: in the look Charlie and Vaggie shared, in the way Alastor’s smile shifted from that toothy grin to one of close-mouthed distaste, and in the way the Radio Demon moved away from him as if he were something filthy. Dirty. Broken.

Used.

He couldn’t hear what they said next. The words blurred together in a buzz of sound. All he could hear were slow silky notes of jazz music coming from Alastor’s cane. The cane… it was placed not too far from his head. And there was a strange scent enfolding him. Woodsy notes with a pleasant heat to it, like a crackling fire. Maybe coffee somewhere in there. Yes. A nice scent. He felt warm. 

So warm.

He woke on the couch to a hand coaxing him to drink water. In his sleepy daze, it took him a moment to realize the hand gently cupping his chin belonged to the Radio Demon. Alastor stood over him, leaning down with red ears perked forward, those sharp dangerous eyes inspecting him. Slacks and a dress shirt. No coat. Where was his coat?

Angel found the source of the pleasant smell draped over his own body like a blanket.

Ah fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

His heart hammered in his chest. No no no. A manipulative dick he could get over, sure. A sadistic nutcase with a domineering and dangerous persona? A little harder, but maybe eventually he would stop getting horny every time the bastard walked into the room. But this… 

Alastor couldn’t be sadistic, chaotic, and… sometimes suspiciously sweet. That wasn’t fucking fair. He didn’t know what to do with that.

Fuck, why was he hot and bothered all over again? This asshole hated him, thought he was fucking whore scum. He hated Alastor for doing this. He hated himself.

The water slid down his throat, cool and refreshing. Arms wrapped around him, scooping him up and lifting him in a bundle of limbs. He wrapped his thighs unconsciously around the other man’s waist, hid his face as best he could in his shoulder. The room spun as Alastor carried him. He wanted to fucking disappear. Just vanish. Two embarrassing days back to back. Fuck, could it get anymore pathetic? No. He had been too vulnerable too many times. As soon as he sobered up, he would set the record straight. 

“Is he gonna be alright?” He heard Charlie ask, her voice shaky with anxiety. “You don’t mind carrying him to his room. Do you? I could get Husk—“

“Ha! No no! Don’t bother Husker with this little fiasco. He is currently lying in a pool of his own vices,” a voice by his ear said, softly but cheerily and quickly. “And this particular prostitute will be quite alright. It’s not as though he can overdose and die… though he certainly would if he were a mortal human.” He he could feel that smile spreading on the cheek so close to him.

Prostitute. His job was not going to be used as a fucking label. 

FUCK THIS!

He sank his teeth into Alastor’s shoulder and bit down HARD.

Silence.

Charlie called for Vaggie, begging Alastor not to react poorly before they could extricate the spider and his fangs. Alastor, back stiff and disposition undaunted, kept walking, appearing unconcerned by Angel’s hissing and biting. Angel dug his claws into the man’s back, tore at him. When that didn’t work, he squirmed to get away. 

Alastor slipped into his bedroom and dropped him onto the bed unceremoniously, grabbed him by the throat, and squeezed. Hard. “No.” he said simply. The word felt like a command. Those red eyes pinned him there on his back. 

Any flush of anger he felt went straight down south and throbbed. Annihilated. Alastor annihilated him.

Angel went still. Looked away. He rolled onto his side when the hand around his neck retracted after one final pinching squeeze. Exhaled shakily. 

“Vaggie, he just… I don’t know… I’m telling you he started biting and hissing and—“ Charlie’s voice coming within earshot. Had she not noticed why— Not put two and two together? Fuck, maybe the drugs were getting to him. Maybe he was being irrational. He was what he was. Calling him what he was… should he have been angry at Al in the first place? Why was he so fucking angry? 

“Miss Magne, it is quite alright. A thrilling little scrape, but nothing more,” Alastor said firmly, taking his coat from a shadow that flitted into view and disappeared just as quickly. He paused, studied Angel, and considered something before wordlessly wrapping the spider in the cloak again. That scent… that scent… “Sleep, Angel.” 

Sleep. Yeah, he could go for more of that. 

He woke in sporadic bursts over the next few hours for strange little half-remembered moments, pieces of conversations. Alastor always appeared on the peripheral, nearby. Always nearby. When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on the sunglasses and he examined, in his fog, the way they seemed to sparkle and shimmer. The darker it got in the room, the more they seemed to glimmer, as if they absorbed the daylight and saved it for night. Not glow in the dark, but glitter in the dark. Blue. Soothing. 

Around 6pm, he was able to get his bearings and sit up. He reached for the sunglasses then, found the card had fluttered behind the nightstand. That was alright. He was glad the others hadn’t seen. He wanted… he needed… this to just be for him. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he was holding a secret in his hand, something precious, something he wouldn’t want to share just yet. It didn’t make sense. Maybe he was still high? He felt better though…

He tucked the card into the drawer when he heard Alastor’s footsteps tapping down the hall, had just placed his hands back in his lap when the Radio Demon burst into the room. He forced a charming smile on his face, forced his tone into one of playful flirtation. He did say he would stop teasing the Radio Demon but… he really didn’t know any other way to respond to this situation. Switching to his default setting felt the most easy. “Hey handsome,” he purred, crawling to the edge of his bed and letting Alastor look down the deep V of his rumbled pink shirt at his ample fluffy “tits”. “Thanks fa, well, ya know— dealin’ with my bullshit today. I can pay ya back if ya let me. Whateva ya want, Daddy, even if it hurts a little. Feelin’ better now, so—“

“Oh that is wonderful to hear, my dear Angel Dust.” The door, previously ajar, slammed shut behind Alastor, seemingly of its own accord. He heard the lock click. The Radio Demon smiled that strange, gradually expanding smile, slowly removing his gloves. The smile seemed too wide. “You thought it appropriate to “bite” me today, so I think I will indeed take you up on that offer.”

Wait… what?

Angel blinked, sat back, and stared. “Y-ya serious, Smiles? I-I mean, sure. Whateva ya want. Just…” he gulped as the Radio Demon approached, that feral expression giving him chills. “Can we maybe have a safe word or somethin’?”

“How does ‘Mercy’ sound?” Alastor leaned down. Their faces were so close now, lips almost touching.

“S-sounds good, Smiles,” he stammered. Fuck he couldn’t get his tongue to do it’s job right. Was this a weird fucked up dream? Was he still high and really just dry-humping a pillow?

“Daddy,” Alastor corrected him, pushing him onto the mattress. The Radio Demon twisted Angel’s arm behind his back and pinned him onto his stomach. He could hear Al remove his belt, a black leather strap of a thing, with a swift cracking sound. “And do remember to say ‘Mercy’ if it becomes… too unbearable.”

Oh fuck, this had to be a wet dream. 

Well, if this was a drug-induced fever dream he was at least going to enjoy it. He trembled under the touch, lifted his ass and wagged it tauntingly. “Yes, Daddy,” he said, practically singing the words. 

Alastor ripped his shorts off his hips with a set of sharpened claws instead of just tugging them down, reducing them to scraps of fabric. That was the first sign that this wasn’t just a dream. The next sign was the pain. The leather hissed as it cut through the air, landing on his upraised cheeks with a loud, popping THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

He bit down into the pillow so as not to make too much noise, muffled his moans, gasps, and sobs into the fabric.

THWAP! THWAP!

There was a beat to each strike, a rhythm to where and when, but every time Angel got close to figuring it out, the next blow would change the beat. That searing pain, so intoxicatingly sharp and real, flared across his back, his ass, and his upper thighs. A pause. Alastor wrenched the pillow away from his face, leaned down over his back, and ran a tongue—slowly— lightly— along his neck. One of those clawed hands massaged the burning mound of his left butt cheek. Then, when moaned aloud, sound unmuted by any outside interference, the Radio Demon continued his little game. 

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

He cried aloud, screamed aloud, and babbled incoherently aloud. His moans and appeals seemed to incite greater violence, but he couldn’t stop himself, and he didn’t want to beg for Mercy. No, he didn’t want Mercy. 

THWAP! THWAP!

A red hand wrapped around his leaking, pink cock, stroking it lightly in tandem as the other hand brought the belt down on his bottom. “My my,” Alastor crooned. “How you adore punishment. Tsk. I should have expected no less, I suppose.” THWAP!

THWAP! THWAP!

Angel could only manage to whimper and thrusts a bit too pathetically into the hand milking his cock. Fuck yes. He loved hearing Alastor talk dirty. “Please, fuck me,” he pleaded, panting the words even as he came ribbons of hot cum onto the sheets under him.

The strokes stilled. Those hands went to spread Angel’s now hot pink cheeks apart, to look at his throbbing hole, but then… they stopped. The lightest kiss danced on Angel’s shoulder. Claws dug into his hips. Strangely burning eyes glared into his own off-color ones. The smile looked tighter now. Something had withdrawn. Alastor hissed the words and Angel felt that strange anger in them, a searing bite, “And why would I sully myself with something so many have used before me? No, I won’t ‘fuck you’ tonight, Angel. Not tonight.”

No, it definitely wasn’t a dream.

“Mercy.”

Alastor blinked and lifted his hands from him, stepping back off the bed and dressing himself with a snap of his fingers. “Angel, I should not have said that. I—“

“It’s fine,” Angel said. “Ya meant it, and I get it. I fuck fa a livin’, Al. I know what I do and what I am. Ya just a John who got a little too cheeky fa my taste, that’s all.”

“A John?” Alastor repeated. That trace of what had appeared to be something like guilt and growing concern in his eyes hardened. Cold. 

Angel shrugged, tossing the Radio Demon his red coat. “Yeah, Smiles. A John. A ‘client’. Repayment fa takin care of my drugged up whore ass today. Next time I’ll charge ya, capiche?” Angel stretched his limbs and laid back against the headboard, tilting his head as he met Alastor’s sinister smile with his own. “I got a few days off afta’ today’s shoot, so no need fa ya ta put ya hands on me ta heal me. I’ll carry ya bruises and scrapes. Lots of fellas would pay top dolla ta mark me up like you have and my pimp, my actual sugar “Daddy”, wouldn’t be happy ta know I was givin it away fa free. Ya got a good deal, handsome, fa what it’s worth. Now leave. I gotta get ready ta go out.”

If looks could kill… they’d have murdered each other at the exact same time.

Angel watched Alastor sweep out, saw the man’s hand curl into a fist with nails that cut into his own skin, fuming despite his permanent smile. He took that as a win.

It didn’t matter that he broke down after the Radio Demon left. The tears didn’t matter. The pain didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He’d won the fight, right? He won…

_Welcome to the Hive~_

A song, just a line, in a whispery chorus of voices played from somewhere; close yet far away. He heard it and looked for it. He felt it in the drawer when his hand found the business card, seized it, and didn’t question it.

He called the number, and though he didn’t know where the song was coming from, it felt like balm on his heart.

“Hello, Sugah. I’m so happy to hear from you. How’re ya feelin’, baby?” A sweet southern voice that rolled and lilted with tenderness and affection. 

_Welcome to the Hive~_

———

Author’s Note: Kudos and Review if you like it!!! 

I couldn’t help but get another chapter of this one out so soon. It’s 2 am. I need to get up in a few hours for work. I am so, so tired, but this one has gotten in my head and I just had to write this.


	3. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girls night and a glimpse at a new job opportunity. My oh my.

Authors Note: Feels in this chapter. Feels.

—

Chapter 3

He didn’t feel good. ’l don’t feel good. I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy in a long time. I feel trapped. I feel trapped.’ That’s what he wanted to say, and he hated himself for wanting to divulge all of this deep and personal information to such a complete stranger. After all, these women were, in fact, strangers. 

And yet…

“Ha, I’m fine, toots,” he said, putting on a chipper and casual front as he rummaged through his closet for clean clothing. “Had a shitty time with a John. Feel like goin’ out and… wanna hear about this job of yours. Ya really think I’ll be interested? I mean, I’m gettin’ kind of sick of random dick. I don’t think Val, my rat-faced pimp, would let me leave, but I could use a little change… at least fa a while.” He tried not to sound too eager, tried to keep his words nonchalant as he pulled on a pair of pants that were too fucking tight. They stuck to his legs like a second skin, and not in the way they were supposed to. Worst of all, he became keenly aware of every bruise and welt the Radio Demon left behind with that damned belt of his. It was like a hand pinching the bruised skin every time he moved, but there was something even worse. He winced at his reflection in the mirror. Fuck, he’d gained a weight. He could see it in the bouncy curve of his ass and the slightly more filled out appearance of his legs. Not much weight, and it all went in the right place at least, but Val must have noticed. 

Time to go on another crash diet. 

Oh, maybe that was why Val got him so fucked up the other day. He lost a shit-ton of weight every time he went on a bender. That… diet of drugs and cigarettes usually worked like a charm for getting Angel in ‘perfect shape’. Shit. He’d avoid drinks with too many calories tonight. He tugged off the pants, whimpering with each hip wiggle, studied his entire wardrobe, and chose to wear his old mafia attire. At least it fit well enough, not too tight or loose, covered the welts across his body, and looked halfway decent.

The voice in his ear startled him back to the present.

“Oh yes, baby! I think you’d love it. I really, truly do!” Marjorie chimed merrily. He could hear chattering in the background, laughter and warm banter. He could hear Aurelia chuckling in a refined manner, all repressed decorum. Then he heard an accented man’s voice interjecting into the conversation, speaking rapidly and without pause, reducing her to ridiculous fits of giggles and snorts. He could hear Jax, speaking near Marjorie’s ear, saying a few curt words. He heard ‘Human’, ‘blue’, and ‘good’, but that was all he could make out. He heard other voices too, songlike and soft. None of the screams, explosions, or crashes he usually heard when he called other demons in hell. Where were they? It sounded halfway civil— Halfway decent. “Let’s have a little gal’s night first, and then I’ll take ya with me on a job. Once ya see what we do, well, I think you’ll find it’s just your taste. But what YOU need before ALL else is a drink and a laugh, Sugah’. That’s what you need.” 

A drink and a laugh. Yeah, that was exactly what he needed right now. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, fixing his hair and smiling at himself in the mirror. Not bad. He was still fuckin gorgeous even with a little extra fluff in his ass. “Where should I meet—“

“Oh honey, you’re not gonna be walkin’ through hell alone lookin’ fabulous. Too many hungry eyes and hands that pry. Oh no! I can stop by and pick ya up, if’n that’s alright? We arrive everywhere in style, baby.” A pause. “Oh!” A laugh. “Jax says she’ll drive, so ya don’t have ta fear for ya livelihood. Now ain’t that a hoot? I am not that bad a driver, I will have you know.”

Angel could feel the smile twitching on his lips as he listened to the chatter, the playful bickering. Like white noise, or a song that gave you chills rolling down your back. “Thanks babes. And really, ya drivin style is top notch. There ain’t no otha’ way ta drive a blue convertible. I mean, ya gotta either go big or go home. Fuck all the otha’ assholes on the road. Ya car is hot shit, and drivin it all crazy is half the fun. Besides,” he stepped out of his room, hellphone to his ear, and walked down the hall, sidestepping an approaching Charlie without missing a beat. “Cars like that get jacked so fuckin fast. Ya gotta enjoy it while ya got it. Oh, and I’m ready when you are.”

“Sugah’, you and I are of the same mind. Give me ten minutes!” Marjorie said, and he grinned as he heard Aurelia shout ’10 MINUTES?!’ in the background before she hung up the phone.

“Angel, are you alright?” Charlie said, running after him. Fuck. He really didn’t want to talk about this shit with her. She stared at him with these giant doll eyes, looking all worried and sympathetic. Pitying, but still judging. He wanted… to forget about this day, to erase it with fun memories. At least he wanted to try. He’d meet with these gals, find out about this job, and maybe, if he still had the energy afterwards, he would do something fucked up and fun with Cherri later. “How are you feeling? You were in bed all day. Al said if you were human—“ 

“Charlie, it ain’t a big deal,” he said, walking over to the bar and ordering a skinny vodka drink from Husk. The cat rolled his eyes and unenthusiastically poured him a glass, sliding it towards him with a flick of his tail. 

Husk grumbled to himself before saying,“Dieting again?”

“What d’you fuckin think?” Angel snapped. Husk scoffed. Charlie winced. Angel answered her next: “So ‘sorry’ fa the inconvenience, toots, but shit happens.”

He flicked her off.

Charlie snatched the glass before his fist could close around it and poured it on the floor. He saw Nifty twitch from somewhere in his peripheral. The princess of hell glared him down sternly despite being so much shorter.. “Angel,” she said. “You’re not drinking. You literally just overdosed.”

“Why don’t ya mind ya own fuckin business,” he started to say, but the squeal of tires and honk of a car caught his attention. “Whateva’. I’ll drink at the bar. See ya later, bitches.”

Charlie followed after him, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Angel, your redemption IS my business. You said you were getting clean. You told me you were going to try,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Angel! Cant you at least rest a little while longer. We care about you. We were worried about you. We ARE worried about you..”

“Worried ‘bout ya hotel’s shit reputation, more like,” he corrected snatching his hand away. “Listen Charlie, what I do with my free time is my business. If ya don’t like it, I can leave. Stay with Cherri fa a while. I don’t fuckin care. I don’t need ya or this shithole.”

“Angel…” her voice cracked on his name before she started crying. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the hell was wrong with him? Why had he been so harsh with her— so defensive? He knew she just wanted to help. He reached out to touch her shoulder, to comfort her, to apologize, but stopped and drew his hand back. He had to leave— had to get out of here.

He had to get out of there.

He turned on his heel and swept out of the hotel, unaware of the Radio Demon entering the room to find the sobbing princess of hell just as he left. Red eyes on his back. 

Bad. Bad. Bad.

He practically sprinted to the car, ignoring every sharp stab of pain, leaping over the door, and diving into the back seat. The second his ass landed, they were off like a shot, speeding through the streets of hell, swerving and weaving through traffic. The wind whipped through his hair— Music blasting. He slipped the sunglasses on, shifted the world from red to shimmering blue. He was glad Marjorie decided to fucking drive. Really fucking glad.

“Less than 10 minutes,” he said with a shaky little laugh. “Damn your good.”

“Oh, do not encourage her,” Aurelia said from beside him, desperately trying to bind her hair into some semblance of order, but every bun and braid she tried came loose in the wind and whipped about like a black flag. The faintest smile. “Ah well, I suppose it is impressive.”

“4 minutes. 13 seconds,” Jax said, looking back at them from the passenger seat. She examined him for a moment through long, dark lashes, reached into her purse, and handed him another two pills just as she had before. For the pain, he realized. She knew he was in pain. She didn’t clarify. Didn’t ask. Didn’t pry. She just handed him the pills.

He swallowed them gratefully.

“So where are we headed?” He said, somewhat breathless from the wind and the way his heart pounded with the beat of the music. 

And then the car was engulfed in a vortex of darkness.

————

His first response was to panic when everything went black, but then Aurelia’s hand closed around his own, and for some reason it brought him this strange comfort. He suddenly remembered being a child and playing with his sister, Molly, in a blanket fort; remembered how they made shadows formed from flashlights and darkness.

Familial. Safe. Warm.

At first the colors came in spirals around them. Purples, pinks, and blues mostly. Lights like stars— and then Nebulas. Colorful, wispy, and expanding nebulas shining against the blackness. He wanted to reach out and touch them, but space and time whipped by so quickly and his eyes fixed on a point of light in the distance. Not a white light, but a blue light. 

They were on a road again, a road he did not know in a place he had not been. Blue. The traffic lights were blue. Most of the people were blue too, though some were other strange shades of galaxy. The buildings, towering and shimmering, seemed like they had been formed from black diamond. A city of shadow lit by a sky that was filled with blue, purple, and pink starlight. 

They passed a couple bars, strip clubs, and gambling joints, but it all seemed so different, so polished, and so lacking that desperation and seediness that came with the hungers of hell. Most of the buildings were not devoted to sin. Most were apartments, businesses, stores, restaurants, and places for other forms of entertainment: museums, libraries, art galleries, and theaters. The people didn’t fight in the streets. They looked, not falsely happy and smiling, but quietly content. They moved slowly. Their eyes were gentle.

Where the fuck was he?

“Welcome to the Underworld, Sugah,” Marjorie said, pulling into a parking lot. Angel felt like he had whiplash from spinning his head this way and that. He took off the glasses. Nope. This place was really… holy fuck. “We call it home sweet home.”

“This can’t be fuckin real,” he said softly, jumping out of the car and staring, transfixed, at the sky, the buildings, and the soft blue light. “This can’t fuckin exist. A place like this… this ain’t heaven?”

Marjorie stepped out of the car, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing it reassuringly. “No, baby. This is where… most people end up. The underworld. Heaven is for angels, good as good can be. Hell is for demons. The rest of us end up right here.”

“Hell has a problem with overpopulation,” Angel whispered, placing a hand over his mouth. “Ya tellin me that the majority of… fuckin everyone… can all fit—“

“There are no limits here, baby. No boundaries. No restraints,” she said, patting his arm. “The underworld is run by a great and powerful god, not a prideful fallen Angel.” A pause. “Oh! Forgive me my manners. Are ya frightened, honey? It’s alright yer frightened. We can go back. All this must be too much too soon.”

“No. No,” he said, shaking his head. He didn’t want to go back yet. He ran a hand over the smooth wall of a building, shining like black diamond, or maybe glass. He could see the stars reflected on its dark surface. He looked down at a cluster of blue bioluminescent mushrooms growing in a corner, at the flowering trees that lined the cleanly paved sidewalks. Their branches hung heavy with glowing pink blooms. “It’s… it’s just so…”

“Beautiful?” She smiled. 

“Yeah,” he said. His heart hammered in his chest. “Beautiful’s the word.”

He knew the feeling even as he didn’t understand it. That heart pounding, chest tightening, hope soaring feeling. 

In love. He was in love.

“Looking at you is like looking through a mirror and seeing my past self,” Aurelia said in a refined purr, tying up and taming her wild hair into a tight bun. “When I came to the Underworld, I had just the same reaction. I have loved only twice: my Rupert and the Underworld. He often teases that he thinks I love the Underworld just a little bit more.” She smiled, taking her hands away from the perfectly sculpted mound of hair. “Is it not strange to fall in love at first sight… with a place?”

“He looks overwhelmed,” Jax said, point blank. 

“I am fuckin overwhelmed,” he said, but he was laughing. He didn’t know why he was laughing. He felt like crying. If he had only been a little bit better in his lifetime, perhaps…

Marjorie took his hand and led him down the sidewalk. They approached a two story building and slipped through a set of glowing blue doors past a bouncer who looked at him with approving, good natured interest. The bar was comfortably sized, enough room to sit and hear clearly, but with plenty of gorgeous people circulating. The men… fuck the men were good looking. Daddies everywhere he glanced. The air inside smelled somewhat like hookah smoke, fruity and pleasant, a sweet warm smoke. Not the kind that burned, but the distant tingling scent that left him wondering if he was imagining it. 

They settled at a booth. It was clean. The floor didn’t look sticky. 

“I think I need a stiff drink,” he said, sitting back and looking around with wide eyes. “This is fuckin insane. Why the fuck are ya bitches hangin around in hell?”

They all laughed. 

“Pleasure,” Jax said.

“Work,” Aurelia said.

“Fun,” Marjorie said. 

They smiled at each other.

Aurelia shrugged and ordered them a round of shots. “All of the above really,” she said. “Our job allows us to move… as we see fit. We did say it provides glorious travel benefits.”

“Here, sugah, take a shot. Ya look like ya need it. Cheers,” Marjorie said, handing him a shot glass and tapping it with her own. They threw back the liquor in tandem. It tasted… oh god, it actually tasted decent and not like, well, demon piss. Marjorie made a “whooing”, gasp of a sound. “Now that’s the stuff! Hell liquor can’t shine a candle to it!”

“Why didn’t I know about this…place,” he said softly.

“Demons don’t know much about anything outside hell, baby,” Marjorie said. “And that ain’t an accident, I’m afraid. We’ll talk about rules and secrecy later. Right now, why don’t ya have anotha’ drink with me, and these two lightweights, and we can talk about things that ain’t so weighty as the afterlife.”

Another shot. Chatter. Laughter. Another shot. He told them more than he meant to, but…

“Oh, baby, I think that man don’t respect you enough. He wants ya, but he don’t respect ya,” Marjorie said, eyes soft with the liquor. They seemed to glaze a little as she spoke, looking somewhere past him to a memory far away. “My mama always said there ain’t no sense in chasin’ a hornet. Ya only gonna get stung. Let him prove he’s a butterfly first, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll let him land on your shoulder.”

“Or you could cut off his manhood,” Aurelia said, examining her nails. Her cheeks were flushed with drink and in that moment he realized her nails were like sharpened, polished claws. “I could do it if you do not have the stomach for it.” She smiled and her teeth looked sharper than before.

He started to like her even more. She was a crazy fucked up bitch under all that refinement and he was living for it.

“You’re unhappy,” Jax said simply. She looked at him, speaking slowly and succinctly. The quiet one of the three, speaking more than he knew possible. “I know what’s it’s like to be trapped in that world. I know what’s like to have that label. I know what it’s like for people to stop seeing you as a person, and to only see what you can give them— what they can take from you. You deserve better. You are allowed to be happy. You are allowed to say no. You are allowed to grab for more.”

Silence.

“It ain’t that easy,” he started to say, but he trailed off. He wanted to shout, to argue like he did with Charlie, but… he felt so raw here in this place. “I got a contract and…”

“Oh!” Marjorie suddenly sprang to her feet, pulling a buzzing blue phone from her pocket. She seemed bright eyed, instantly sobered. “Oh, sugah, it’s time ta go. We gotta get movin. You’re still comin with me on the job, right?”

Angel blinked, nodded, and stood, enjoying the lightly pleasant buzz. Not hammered, not drunk. He was interested to find out exactly what these gals did, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t already made up his mind the second he laid eyes on this place… he wanted in, but he needed to see what the catch was. There was always a catch. Conditions…

Marjorie hooked her arm through his and beamed up at him. “Honey, whateva ya decide and howeva ya end up feelin’, just know that I still wanna be your friend regardless of whether or not this job is to your taste. It ain’t for everyone, it just ain’t, but I think you’ll like it, and if’n ya don’t that is quite alright, baby. We’re still gonna get you of that situation—that horrible contract— you’re in, job or no job. We take care of our friends, so there is no pressure here. Ya gonna be safe.”

Promises. Promises. He had never heard a promise like this one. You don’t owe me. You have options. You are getting help regardless of whether or not your choices benefit me. You are going to get help. It made breathing easier somehow. It drained away the nerves. He felt lighter.

He felt stronger. 

When she pulled him through a portal and into the sunlight, it took him a while to realize where he was… what he was. He stared at his hands. He ran a hand through his hair, saw a blonde wisp of bang. He swiveled on his heel and looked down at her. She smiled back up at him, skin no longer blue but a rich brown. Her eyes smiled too.

“Blonde. Ya know, I took you for a blonde,” she said, laughing softly. “Welcome back to the place ya left behind so long ago.”

The living world. Humans. Everywhere.

He went rigid.

There was no fucking way this was allowed. No fucking way. Not that he was suddenly a rule follower or some shit, oh no, but he felt like a deer in the headlights seeing people, regular people, walking past them. Humans. Living, breathing humans.

“Marjorie, babes, I really like ya, but please start fuckin explainin’ before I freak the fuck out,” he said, reaching out and touching the shoulder of a passing man. The man looked at him, seeing him but not seeing him, shrugged, and kept walking. “Can they fuckin see us or not?”

“Yes and no,” she said, arm hooked with his own as they walked down a strip of sidewalk, past litter and debris. No more extra appendages. The height difference seemed less radical now. He was… really human. “If ya want them ta see you, they will see you. Sometimes it can be useful, though we’ll probably need ta turn it off when we reach the hospital. When ya do feel the need ta use it, and someday ya will, they won’t remember your face, your exact words, or any details. Ya won’t show up on any cameras. In the world of spy-craft they have this phrase: “the little gray man”. For the most part, we blend inta the crowd when we are “visible”. We are forgotten, forgettable, and so quickly erased. We are a little gray man.” 

“Gross.” 

She laughed. It sounded like music. 

“Marjorie,” he said, pausing in front the crisp white hospital building, all concrete and glass. “Why are we going into a hospital.” He could feel a shiver run down his spine. His skin shimmered. Invisible now somehow? 

She didn’t answer him, and his throat dropped into his stomach as he followed alongside her, spurred forth by their hooked arms. No, no. It couldn’t be so bad, he told himself. He’d seen fucked up shit before. He’d killed men in cold blood for a job. He could deal with any of this shit. If Marjorie could do this “job”, then so could he.

Then he saw the sign.

Children’s Hospital.

Oh no. No.

“Marjorie,” he whispered.

“He will be more afraid if you are afraid,” she said quietly, leading him into a cold room filled with the blaring glow of artificial light. “There’s someone who needs us ta help them find their way. Someone small and scared.”

Small and scared.

The boy in the bed could not have been more than seven years old. He was small and pale. Not breathing. Not moving. Angel saw a flash of something blue in the corner, like a vibrant copy of the kid, shaking violently, fists clenched, tears in his eyes. Could ghosts cry?

He unhooked his arm from Marjorie, felt her stepping back as he, as if on instinct, stepped forward and approached the child. “Hey kid,” he said , smiling wide. “Whatcha doin hidin in corners?”

“I’m not ready yet,” the boy said. He backed away from Angel, eyes darting around the room. “I’m not ready ta go yet. I want my mama.”

“Well, that’s alright kid. I ain’t gonna rush ya or nothin,” he said, flopping casually on nearby chair and tipping his hat to the boy. “But why don’t ya tell me ya name. My name is… Anthony. Tony fa short.”

The child paused, studied him with a suspicious glare, and nibbled nervously at his lower lip. “Ben,” he said quietly. “I’m Ben.”

“Hey Ben. So, ya waitin on your ma. Well, where is she?” Angel folded his hands in his lap and made a show of getting comfortable. They weren’t going anywhere before this kid was good and fucking ready. 

“She got hungry and went to get food…” Ben whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. “We didn’t get ta say goodbye. I can’t die. Mama’s gonna so sad that we didn’t say goodbye. I don’t wanna go yet. It’s not fair.”

Angel felt his heart shatter in his chest, a bunch of angry shards of glass cutting him from the inside. Angry. He felt so angry for this kid. “No kid. That ain’t fair at all.” He stood and walked over to the child, kneeling down in front of him. “Listen ta me. I ain’t takin ya nowhere until ya say bye ta ya mama, alright? But, just know she’s gonna cry a whole lot, because I’ll bet she loves ya somethin fierce. Ya just just gotta rememba that everything is gonna be okay and you’ll see eachotha’ again before ya know it. I could be ya great grandpa, I’m so old, but it feels like just yestaday I was your age. Time moves real quick.”

“It does?” Ben reached up for a hug and Angel scooped the boy up into his arms , squeezing him tight.

“Yeah kid,” Angel said, words soft. “It does.” Footsteps raced down the hall. “It’s okay to be scared. And even if she can’t hear ya say goodbye ta her, she’s gonna feel it in her heart. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

He held Ben close when his mother ran, sobbing, into the room. He rocked him, reminding him that everything would be okay, and she would be so happy when they met again. He was going somewhere beautiful, and he would have superpowers. He told him about how he, himself, was practically a fuzzy white Spider-Man and that the Underworld had glow in the dark pink flowers.

When he carried Ben into the portal, arms wrapped tightly around the child’s sobbing, clinging little frame, he vowed to shoot whoever the fuck decided it was alright for kids to die. 

“I’m scared,” Ben whimpered as lights swirled around them. 

Yeah, he’d shoot them all.

Distract him. Keep talking. Make him feel safe. “Hey kid, ya ever heard of Al Capone?” Angel said, smiling gently.

“Yeah,” the boys said quietly. “I think so.”

“Well I’m twice as tough and about three times as cool. Dontcha worry, kid. I ain’t lettin no one take ya away from me until I know fa certain you’re safe, sound, and real happy. I’ll beat up anyone who tries.”

“Yer turning into a spider,” Ben whispered suddenly, just slightly distracted from his grief, eyes widening in awe as he touched Angel’s cheek. “Ya are a fluffy Spider-Man!”

“I told ya so.” He beamed, gold fang tooth glinting. Ben laughed a little, his eyes shifting into something feline. Blue checkered ears rose from his hair. So he’d be some kinda leopard? Good for him. He deserved the chance to run fast, climb high, and fight strong.

“Ah, Marjorie,” Angel started to say, following along after her with Ben clasped tightly now in both sets of arms. “I hope ya know I ain’t puttin this fuckin kid down just anywhere.” His tone was more acidic than he meant for it to be, but he couldn’t care less when he felt the boy relax in his arms. This kid trusted him— felt safe with him. 

Like hell he’d abuse that trust.

“Don’t worry, Baby.” Marjorie said, leading him down a lane of glowing pink trees and blue lights to house with purple windows. “He’s got someone waitin for him.”

A man stepped out of the house and sprinted towards them.

“Daddy!” The joy. Oh that joy that lit up Ben’s face put Angel’s heart back together again. He set the child down and watched as father and son ran to each other, watched the man fall to his knees with tears in his eyes, pulling his little boy into his arms. 

His cheeks were wet. He didn’t realize until a tear fell onto the sidewalk in front him. One, then another. And then another.

Ben looked at him, crying and smiling all at once. “Thank you, Spider-Man!”

Thank you, Spider-Man.

Thank you, Spider-Man.

They had been gone a little while before Marjorie touched his arm lightly, uncertainly. “It ain’t for all people, I know,” she said softly. “But I do think ya have knack for it. I think ya have the heart fa it. A good heart. Today, you were the light. That’s what we do. We are the light at the end of the tunnel. We carry them, hold them, love them, and comfort them. We help them find their way. That is what we do.”

“A grim reaper,” Angel whispered. His eyes drifted up to the expanse of starry sky.

“Is it so grim, sugah?” A pause. “That little boy died and he needed someone ta help him find the way. Not all reapers would be so patient, so loving, or so kind. I knew ya would be. I knew ya had it in ya ta be a good one— ta be the light. It’s alright if ya don’t—“

“How soon can I start?”

Bittersweet but blooming. Fulfilling.

Was this what purpose felt like?

———

Author’s Note: Please Kudos and Review! 

I devour your words for sustenance. 

I’d love to hear what ya think so far. This story is just... oh fuck writing it feels delicious.


	4. Welcome to the Hive

Author’s Note: All songs within are my own. Enjoy! 

———

Chapter 4

Floating. 

He felt as though they were floating as they moved soundlessly through the shadows and sky. The women surrounded him, not like a cage but a shield. They had been walking, no… floating, for a while, and all he could see was a blue light in the distance. The ramp beneath their feet was formed of rolling black clouds. Yes, they were practically floating. He didn’t know where they were going, but today had been a day of ‘following quietly’ and as far as he was concerned that hadn’t steered him wrong yet. 

Marjorie had smiled at him when he asked ‘when can I start’; a knowing smile, like she could see through him, deep into his inner core. He wondered why she thought there was good in him. Charlie thought the same thing, he guessed, but Marjorie wasn’t an idealistic, optimistic idiot, and her high opinion of him stumped him. The other women too… they seemed to think he was worth something. 

Were they right?

He kept seeing the little boy’s face, his awe and gratitude. His trust. His hope. Maybe they were right. Maybe, even if they were wrong, he could still try this job out… do more good. 

He liked… helping people. 

He hadn’t known he liked helping people.

When he saw it, he froze in place. A black, expansive mass, like a giant black hole in the sky. It seemed endless, this vast pit of shadow, rippling as though it were alive. Shaking. Almost breathing. Aurelia and Jax each took a hand from his lower set of arms on either side of him. Marjorie moved in front of him, took his two free hands in her own, and guided him, slowly, inside. 

Light everywhere. Blue light. Halls upon halls upon halls of every size and at every level. He saw people floating through the halls, weaving in and out of caverns lit by soft blue light. Heads turned to look at him. Curious, gentle eyes. Tilted heads.

And then the sound.

_‘Welcome to the hive.’_

A song, sung together by whispering, coaxing voices. 

_‘Welcome to the hive!’_

His heart hammered in his chest as the glowing people, floated around them, singing together in a chorus line of spirits. Charlie sang all the time, and Alastor had certainly tried to yank him into a jazzy jig or two, but this felt different. Chills ran down his spine and along his arms. The good kind, the kind you got when you heard something you’d remember forever. He looked at the girls, and they were all singing the words together in a rich harmony, somehow both perfect and unpracticed. Their different voices came together so easily into a hum of sound.

_‘All the little reapers buzz,  
‘round and around;  
Every single life we touch,  
But never make a sound._

_We call from the halls that are blue blue blue,  
And pretty petals fall when spring comes anew;  
We are the bees buzzing ‘round ladies hair;  
Queen Persephone;  
So fair._

_Welcome to the Hive.  
Welcome to the Hive._

_All the little reapers buzz,  
‘round and around;  
Starlight through dark night,  
Though shadows may Abound._

_Welcome to the Hive.  
Welcome to the Hive. _

_You can strive here;  
Feel alive here;  
Why just survive when you can thrive,  
Here in the hive. _

_Welcome to the Hive.  
Welcome to the Hive. _

_We know it sounds a little sad;  
We promise that it’s not so bad;  
You’ll brighten up their darkest day,  
So they don’t feel the need to stay. _

_And hand in hand you’ll lead them home,  
So they don’t have to go alone.  
You can take them through the night;  
You can be the light. _

_You. Can. Be. The. Light!_

_Welcome to the Hive.’_

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, tears in his eyes. The girls laughed too. They hugged him together. Warm. Talk about a warm, fucking welcome. He felt lightheaded, overwhelmed and drunk with this stupid sense of excitement and hope that he knew was fucking crazy. Really fucking crazy, but this was all so fucking crazy anyway. 

So what if he hoped a little?

“Now Sugah, we’re about ta meet with Aurelia’s fella, Rupert. He’s gonna help us get ya signed on,” Marjorie said, smiling as she wiped a tear from her eye. “He’s real high rankin’ in this place, and ya wouldn’t be the first sassy bitch he pulled outta hell ta work as a reaper.” She shot a playful glance at Aurelia who pursed her lips and pretended not to have heard, though the corners of her eyes creased with a smile. “He’s a little bit funny, but don’t let that fool ya. He’s a… he’s a force ya want on your side, that’s for damn sure.”

“And do not be too nervous. If I like you, he will like you. He has never said no to me. Not really,” Aurelia said softly, walking ahead to lead them through the halls. “I will admit now, that pulling a Demon for this line of work is not particularly conventional. However, given your knack for it, you make a prime candidate.”

“Not exactly fillin’ me with confidence, toots,” Angel said, arching a brow as they turned down a hall. “Were you guys even allowed ta fuckin bring me here?”

“Given our reputations? Yes,” Aurelia said. “We are afforded a certain leeway due to our talents in the field.” 

“Or in the bedroom?” Angel mumbled. 

Jax gave him the side eye, smirked, but said nothing. 

The halls were wide, spacious, and lit dimly in blue light. Angel noticed the walls were covered in a series of octagonal dark-tinted mirrors, reflecting the lights. The ground beneath them felt like black marble. 

When they turned into the office, the first thing Angel noticed was that the glow coming off the man was bright golden-yellow; not blue, not pink, and not purple. He was tall, standing at least a full head taller than Angel himself, with wavy black hair and scales, like gold, climbing up his neck and down his arms. Black horns spiraled out from his temples. His eyes were gold too, with a reptilian black pupils. Almond shaped. Tilted up at the ends. Dark lashes. Sharp handsome features. A dragon.

Then he fuckin spoke.

“Why Aurelia, my darling, there you are! I was just thinking about you. What do you think about tigers?”

“Tigers?” Aurelia said, pausing. “Oh Rupert, no. No…”

“Not particularly interested then?” He said, speaking in a refined, accented voice that seemed dizzyingly quick, playful, and chipper all at once. “You see, I came across the most fascinating feline I had ever seen in India and got to thinking ‘well, wouldn’t this creature make a spectacular pet if it were not snout-deep in a man’s chest’. Naturally the cat disagreed with me, but after some convincing I was able to lure it willingly through the portal and now it seems to have comfortably taken up residence in our guest bedroom.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Aurelia said, covering her mouth with her hand. “When?”

“Why, just this morning after you left for work, my dear,” he said, blinking several times. “Ah you laugh at me. I see you smile behind that hand of yours, my silly princess. Do not you laugh at me. I know you will love the creature. I knew the moment I saw it rip through a man’s flesh. It reminded me of you in your fits of madness. Glorious. So there. Now who is this charming beauty?”

“A friend, my dear. My friend, Angel,” Aurelia said leaning down and placing a kiss against the strange man’s cheek. 

“Ah, a friend is it? Well, I am very sorry, my lovely sir, but I shall not sleep with you. I shall not. For Aurelia and I have decided that we do not sleep with our friends. It does tend to ruin the friendship for some strange reason. We cannot quite figure out, but others outside ourselves tend to feel this ridiculous, this ludicrous, jealousy that we simply do not understand, and they always try to steal us from one another. Terribly inconvenient really. A shame. But what can be done? Ah, my dear that is a new dress, is it not? Lovely. And now you will tell me that you need something and I shall acquiesce.”

“Ah, but you know me too well,” Aurelia said, stroking one of the curling horns. “My dear, you brought home a tiger and I a Demon. He has a knack for reaping, at least Marjorie’s way. We will see if he also enjoys our subset of the field.”

“Does he now?” Rupert said, studying Angel with curious eyes. Angel stared back. He hated being the patient observer, but he was trying to figure this fucker out. He had a… particular sort of experience with quick-talking men, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. After a beat, Rupert said, “Oh, you do not trust me in the slightest, do you? That is very fair and I commend you for it. People are much too trusting nowadays. Well, let us get you signed on, my lovely spider, and you can begin frolicking about with my Dear Aurelia and her friends.”

Valentino. He had almost forgotten… shit.

How had he almost forgotten reality?

“The thing is,” Angel said, gritting his teeth and pushing through any of that bullshit nervousness that kept gripping his tongue. “I got a contract with a pimp overlord in hell. He ain’t exactly gonna let me leave it.”

“Oh, my dear,” Rupert said, smiling broadly. When this golden dragon smiled, the smile met his eyes even as his fangs glinted. He walked over to Angel, clasped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, reassuringly. “You would be signing on to work under a much greater and higher power. All other contracts are null and void once you enter into the service of Hades and the Underworld. He leaned down, meeting Angel’s eye level with his own glowing, golden gaze. “Your pimp will not know why, he will not know how, but he will feel the tearing, the ripping, and the swallowing of that contract into the void. All he need know, is that you are no longer his possession. You will be your own, and a subject of the underworld.” 

Just like that? Could it really be so easy? 

Angel was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him.

“Sounds too good ta be true,” Angel said slowly, brushing off the hand.

“Then you, my dear, have not been living the life you deserve.” Rupert chuckled and took a seat, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair behind the broad black desk. A contract appeared in a puff of pink smoke. “Welcome to the Hive, Angel. You tell me if that pimp causes you any trouble.” A slow, dangerous smile. “Aurelia and I take great joy in tearing apart the truly wicked, those who would victimize the weaker. And I, well, I believe I am behind our little game by three points.”

“Five points,” Aurelia said, smirking faintly.

“Five points now? Oh for goodness sake. I am behind five points and I shall never forgive myself if I lose to her again.” He slid Angel a pen. “Read the contract in full and take your time. There is no rush, no pressure here. I have nothing better to do anyway.” 

He read it, reread it. He looked for loopholes and small print. There was nothing there he didn’t already know, nothing that seemed insidious. His hand trembled just slightly as he signed his name in a pomegranate shade of ink. 

A weight lifted off his shoulders that he didn’t know he had been carrying all this time.

Free. He was free.

—

The underphone would ring when a job came in. He would get a text with details. Sometimes less. Sometimes more. He could decline jobs if he felt they were not to his taste. That was normal. Everyone had a specialization, he learned. He didn’t know what that meant. He shouldn’t get his first job for at least two weeks. Until then, he would tag along with the girls and see how they worked, learn from them. 

He could live wherever the fuck he wanted.

Reaping paid really fucking well.

He could jump through inter-dimensional portals at will but it would be fucking exhausting and it was better not to overdo it. 

He should never tell anyone about the Underworld who he didn’t plan on bringing into the fold. Once he was experienced, he would have the instinct for picking up on who that might be, but the Underworld needed to remain a secret to the denizens of hell. 

He was tired, bone tired. Elated and tired, as he slid out of Marjorie’s powder blue car in front of the hotel and hugged her goodbye. “Thanks, toots,” he said softly. “I… I really—“

“We’re just happy ta have ya, Sugah,” she said, chuckling. “Now ya’ll gotta get some sleep, ya hear? I think this has been one helluva day for you. Very eventful and very exhausting, physically and emotionally. Sleep, baby. Call me when ya feel ready to go on another job or even just wanna hang out! It’s nice havin someone who can keep up with me!” 

He smiled, waved goodbye, and mentally vowed to call her as soon as he could move again.

He dragged himself, exhausted and limbs heavy, to the stained glass hotel door, slipping inside and closing it behind him with a heavy sigh. He felt the eyes on him before he even saw them. 

“Where did you go,” Vaggie said, sitting on the red couch and crossing her arms. Charlie sat stiffly beside her, looking miserable and sad, but resolved. He saw his things being piled in the hotel lobby by Nifty who moved at a frantic speed. Wait. Wait. Were these bitches seriously kicking him out?

“Met with some gal pals,” he said slowly, looking at his bags. Alright. Alright. So they were giving him the boot. He would call Cherri. She moved around a lot. Didn’t live in any one place. If it wouldn’t work that night at Cherri’s, he would call one of the girls. How fucking embarrassing. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I understand though. I get it. I’ll collect my things and get outta ya hair, alright?”

Charlie worried her bottom lip with her teeth. 

Vaggie spoke. “We can’t have someone here who doesn’t take this seriously.” She said simply. “You insulted Charlie and then fucking vanished. We had everyone looking for you, worried sick. Even the Radio Demon couldn’t find you and it’s driving him insane. Cherri didn’t know where you were. Valentino has been saying weird shit on Voxtagram for the past hour. What the fuck were you doing and where the fuck were you?”

“I…” Angel sighed, feeling so tired. He laughed a little. “Ya know what, babes. Make up ya own assumptions in ya mind, cause it’s my business and I got a right ta my privacy. I don’t care what ya think. I had a good day today. I’m sorry ya were worried. I am. But I’m here, I’m fine, and I’m a fuckin adult, not a child. I don’t owe ya an explanation more than what I gave. I had a good day, I feel great, and if ya kickin me out, well, I ain’t gonna let it ruin my mood.” 

“Angel Dust, my effeminate fellow! Why there you are,” Alastor’s voice boomed behind him as the front doors slammed open. “The ladies had me scouring hell for you, and you must have hidden yourself incredibly well because I could not find hide nor hair of you!” Alastor paused upon seeing the assortment of bags on the ground. Angel flushed when Nifty placed a box labeled ‘Work Shit’ on the floor in front of all them. “Now what is all of this mess!”

“Angel’s moving out,” Vaggie said.

“Ha! No. That will not be necessary at all. Not in the slightest.” The Radio Demon practically strutted into the room, looping an arm around Angel’s waist and having his shadow beings begin collecting the spider’s things. “Now now Charlie. What will the public say? One little slip up and you give your residents the boot? No no no no! I have a much better idea. A fantastic idea! Why, all he needs is a little extra oversight, my dear! I will have a private chat with him about his behavior and I am sure you will see a marked improvement!”

Before either of the women could argue, Angel found himself half-dragged up the stairs and jerked into the room. Alastor slammed the door shut behind them. Angel heard the lock click. Oh no. He wasn’t going to have one of these talks again. He wasn’t gonna chase a hornet.

He turned his back to the Radio Demon, walked to his vanity, and removed his hat to focus on fixing his hair. “And what do ya wanna talk about exactly?” He said, feeling the heat of that fiery red stare. 

“Angel,” the name sounded like a curse. “Where did you go?”

“Not any of ya business.”

“Oh another 14 then?” Sarcasm. Hostility disguised as humor.

14 cocks. Al remembered. Oh this jealous, petty fuckin asshole. 

“If I say yes will ya leave me alone,” Angel snapped back, matching the Radio Demon’s smile with one of his own. “Or did ya wanna be number 15… Daddy.” He sat back on the bed, crossing his legs they way he had seen Rupert do it. That power pose. 

He saw those red eyes narrow even as the smile grew and tightened. Anger… or maybe frustration. He removed his jacket and shirt, tossing them aside casually. Alastor’s eyes fixed on the marks across his body. Angel was like a demented reflection of the underworld, in a way. All purple, black, and blue with a dash of his own lightest pink. 

“Angel,” Alastor said slowly. “Get on your stomach.”

The words were a command. They sent shivers down Angels spine. A heat pooled in his crotch. His body always acted against his brain with Alastor, but he wasn’t going to play this game. He would not cave.

“No,” he said simply, fluffing up his white tits. “Tell me what ya want. I’ll decide if it’s worth my time.”

The Radio Demon’s lips were on his own before he could blink. A kiss with a bite, bloody and sharp. His back hit the mattress, their tongues dancing. That scent, woodsy and burning, had him lightheaded. He couldn’t help but moan and close his eyes, melting into the kiss. Hot. So hot. He tangled his fingers in that red hair.

And then he gasped. He sank his teeth into the Alastor’s bottom lip when a hand slid into the white fluff to pinch and tease one of his sensitive nipples. He placed a hand against Alastor’s chest, shoved him back, and covered his tits protectively with his arm. 

“Slow down, handsome,” he said again, harsher now. “Say what ya want, or leave. If ya can’t say it, ya can’t have it. If ya don’t wanna do it my way, then tough shit. I’m sick of the bullshit, Al. I don’t have anymore fuckin patience.”

Alastor studied him, all devilish smiles, leaned down, and whispered into his ear, “I want you to get on your hands and knees, and spread yourself open for me like the wanton bitch you are. I want to hear you crying and begging for me to fuck you. I want to use my particular abilities to tighten up your hole and deflower you, rip you, and break you. I want to make you scream, tear you apart, and mark you up so horrifically that no man ever touches you again for fear of angering the Radio Demon. Satisfied with that answer, Angel?” 

It sounded like jest, like sarcasm mixed with absurdity. All venom. And yet…

Why was he shaking? Why was he so fucking hot and bothered by this crazy, fucked up kind of dirty talk? Was he screwed in the head or something? What was wrong with him? His dick was already standing straight up like a fucking traitor, and he ached to have something huge inside him. Al knew too. The Radio Demon slowed his movements, pressing their foreheads together briefly before kissing him again. Hands moved carefully, tentatively, down his body. They peeled off his pants and underwear so smoothly, so seamlessly, while Al kissed him in this long and slow way, that he barely noticed until they were gone. He arched up against the Radio Demon, feeling the man exhale and pull him somehow closer. 

A gloved hand wrapped around the pink cock, stroking it leisurely, before the fingers trailed down, pushing between his cheeks to rub the quivering entrance of his aching hole. He sighed, breath coming in shaky little gasps, groaning as lips and teeth trailed along his neck, nibbling against the skin.

“Not tonight,” he said, forcing himself to be firm. Let his words be a mirror to the Radio Demon’s own from just the other day. “Ya won’t fuck me tonight.”

Alastor pulled back, stood stiffly, and turned to leave. He stopped at the door, glancing back at Angel’s naked and aroused form. It took a moment for Angel to realize that despite Alastor’s words about messing him up, all his previous markings and bruises were… gone. 

Someone had a soft side. 

Alastor adjusted his tie, hand seeming to shake a bit. “Angel, do try to avoid disappearing again,” he said, smiling that maddening smile. “The ladies were terribly worried about you and the hotel was in an uproar! I haven’t seen such a panic since the short-lived cigarette ban of the 1920s. What a time to be alive!”

“No promises, Smiles,” Angel said, rolling onto his stomach, ass on display like a mocking farewell. The air crackled around him. The whirring noise of static filled the room. 

The door slammed shut behind the Radio Demon. 

He smiled faintly to himself as he nuzzled, exhausted, into his pillow, a song playing in his head that felt like the lullabies his ma used to sing.

 _‘Welcome to the Hive.’_

_‘Welcome to the Hive.’_

——— 

Authors Note: Another Chapter finished!!! 

Kudos and Review if you enjoyed it!

I’d love to hear what you have to say! It makes me so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Hive (shit very bad recording and sound) Feel free to sing it! Just credit me if you do post something. I would literally vomit from excitement and happiness: https://youtu.be/MLeNXoZLAtY


	5. Little Red Poppinjay

Chapter 5

Ten minutes. Ten minutes of sleep was all he got.

He woke to the sound of voices arguing in the hallway. Loud aggressive whispering. He couldn’t think of a more annoying sound at that moment. He dragged himself, quietly, over to the door, doing his best to keep his steps light and soundless. He kneeled beside it and listened. Fat Nuggets slipped out from under the bed and trotted up alongside him, pressing his little snout against Angel’s hand. He pulled the pig to him. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. This decision is not yours to make. We want him out,” he heard Vaggie say. Fuck, they were serious? Sure he had been a bit of an ass, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. So much for inside every demon there’s a mother fuckin rainbow. He looked around the room, mentally assessing which things he could leave and which he would need to take at a moment’s notice. The shadows had brought back most of his things from the lobby… at some point. He had a go bag, didn’t he? Just in case.

He would be alright. He had… options.

He wasn’t as scared as he might have been just a couple days ago. He didn’t feel lost or hopeless. He would be okay… “good” even. Yeah, he’d be alright.

“No! I will not hear another word of it,” Alastor’s voice chimed from just outside the door, all charm and humor. Angel could practically see the Radio Demon in his mind’s eye. Was he blocking the door, standing in front of it to keep the girls from going inside? What fucked up alternate reality bullshit was this? “Do you have any evidence to back up these unsubstantiated claims?”

“Can you think of another person who could do this? Randomly? Out of the fucking blue?” Vaggie said. “Angel and Charlie got in a fight. You saw that. Then, he went out and—“

“You still have yet to present any worthwhile evidence, my dear!” Alastor said, voice a little sharper. “I was not aware you thought so lowly of our resident Angel! Ha! I believe every demon is an unredeemable sinner, but I still think you are incorrect in your assumptions.”

“Look at Valentino’s fucking Voxtagram!” Vaggie shouted, no longer whispering.

A pause. Silence. 

The silence stretched.

“No. It did not happen. There must be some other reason,” Alastor said after some time. “Believe me, I would have smelled apples on him.” 

Angel sat back. What the fuck were these idiots talking about? He pulled out his hellphone and opened the Voxtagram app, clicking on Val’s page. What could Valentino possibly be spouting on his social media that would have everyone freaking out?

Annnnd Fuck. 

There it was. 

Valentino had posted a picture of Angel’s physical contract, ablaze in blue flames, pieces turning shimmering black as they were swallowed by shadows.

The caption beneath the picture said: 

Moth_Pimp: WTF?! Ungrateful whore.

He noticed Vox’s handle among the top comments. There was a reply from Valentino beneath it. 

Voxtagram_8k: Whose dick did he suck to make that happen, ‘cause it wasn’t mine!

Moth_Pimp: Who else? 🍎🐍

What… wait…wait. The two emoticons, one of an apple and the other of a snake, felt like a smack in the face. He got what Val was suggesting, and it made sense from the moth pimp’s perspective. Who else had the power… but Charlie believed this? She thought he would get in an argument with her, run off, and fuck her dad? Seriously? They thought so little of him they believed this fucking bullshit?

Then again… it wouldn’t be the most fucked up thing he’d done out of spite, and if he didn’t know different, if this post weren’t about him, he would believe it. 

Fuck. He was so tired.

He stood, opened the door a crack and poked his head out to look at the bickering group, Alastor by the door, Vaggie ready to push past him, and Charlie standing awkwardly and uncertainly behind her, no longer making eye contact. He leaned down and playfully pecked Alastor’s cheek. “Thanks fa bein’ my knight in shinin’ armour, deer Daddy,” he teased, smirking as the Radio Demon went rigid, ears flicking back, and static buzzing. Angel rolled his eyes, held up his phone, and pointed to the post. “Listen, this is bullshit. Charlie, I didn’t see ya dad, I didn’t touch ya dad, and I didn’t fuck ya dad, alright? I made some new friends and found a loophole out of Val’s bullshit. I ain’t gonna explain myself further. That’s it. I did not, I repeat, I DID NOT fuck anyone today, much less ya dad.”

Stares. 

Horrified, mortified, and guilty stares. 

Well, he would be lying if he said it wasn’t satisfying seeing them squirm. 

“A-Angel, I’m so, so sorry,” Charlie said, voice cracking. “I-I shouldn’t have… oh Angel, I’m so sorry. Nothing else… seemed… probable and… I’m so sorry. Oh goodness.” She looked ready to cry, but she forced back the tears. “I failed today. I let myself get carried away by gossip and my own prejudices. I am so sorry, Angel. Please stay. Please give me the opportunity to do better by you.”

“Relax, toots,” Angel said, noting that one of Alastor’s ears had flicked towards him when he mentioned he hadn’t slept with anyone that day. He would try to unravel that mindfuck later. For the first time since before he could remember, he wasn’t angry at a slight. All that anger had drained out of him, and the words started coming. He didn’t know where they came from. Maybe the same place that gave him the words to help that little boy. Yeah… that’s where they came from. “It’s fine. It’s really fine. We’ll do better by each other, alright? Both of us. I’m sorry fa how I acted earlier. I know your tryin your best, and I know it’s hard figurin out the best way ta help people, and that ya might feel a little out of ya depth and hopeless at times. Ya doin ya best and we all see that, Charlie. We do. I appreciate ya and what ya doin’. It’s gonna be okay. It’s a learnin’ curve fa all of us.”

“Angel, thank you,” she said, eyes wide. Touched. “You don’t know how much it means to hear you say that. Thank you… so much.”

“Ya welcome, babes. Just bein honest. Now, I’m dead tired and I’m gonna pass out fa at least 10 hours. I’ll see ya later. And, Smiles,” he paused as he turned to leave, shooting a sidelong glance at the Radio Demon. “It was sweet of ya ta stand up fa me. Don’t get me wrong, I like it when you’re spicy, but I REALLY like it when you’re sweet.” 

He he slipped back into the room, carrying Fat Nuggets into the bed with him.

“That wasn’t normal.” Vaggie said after the door closed.

“Oh, I will keep a close eye on him, Vagatha. Never you fear,” Alastor said, smiling his usual wide impenetrable smile.

Tears ran down Charlie’s cheeks. “I don’t know,” she said. “I believe him.”

She felt seen.

——— 

He learned very quickly that it would take time before he could hop easily or accurately between dimensions. The girls told him to wait. Wait. They would come and pick him up, at least for the first few months, until he had a knack for it. They would practice with him.

Don’t jump without us. Not yet.

He didn’t mind, but when Alastor said he would be keeping an eye on him, he wasn’t joking. Trying to shake off the Radio Demon proved harder than he anticipated.

“Off to galavant with your new “friends”, my effeminate fellow,” Alastor said one day as Angel was making a beeline for the front door. The way he said “friends” seemed to suggest something unsavory. The Radio Demon had avoided touching him since Angel kissed him on the cheek a couple days ago, and Angel wasn’t sure what to make of it. His eyes were always around though, watching, and his commentary and presence proved distraction enough. 

“Yeah, and ya ain’t comin so stop lookin at me like that,” Angel snapped, reaching for the door. “It’s not any of ya business, Mr. Emotionally Stunted. Maybe I have a fella. Maybe I’m off ta see my pals. Maybe my pals are a bunch of horny fellas. Ya ain’t my boyfriend, Smiles. Ya don’t get a say.”

“Angel. Do stay.”

“Goddammit, Al,” Angel said, turning on his heel and facing the Radio Demon. Alastor stepped back when he approached. Angel blinked and stopped in his tracks, feeling suddenly a little self conscious. Al was grabbing his tits and ass one day and maintaining a five foot distance the next. He couldn’t understand what it was this bastard wanted from him. “Smiles… what do ya…want? Do ya wanna fuck me? Do ya wanna date me? Do ya wanna enfold me into some bullishjt deal or somethin?”

“I want to get you out of my system,” Alastor said plainly.

“Out of ya system?”

“Yes.” A pause. Alastor fussed with his bow tie, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “These urges you have inspired recently are irritating, confusing, and, if I may be frank, altogether unpleasant. I would like to simply fornicate and get you out of my system once and for all. Having such urges, particularly for one such as yourself, is not something I am accustomed to. I want them gone.”

Cold. Angel’s blood ran cold. His chest felt hollow. “Alright Al,” he said, reaching out and grabbing the Radio Demon’s hand. Alastor went rigid at the unexpected touch, smile shifting to one of tight-lipped restraint, but before he could ask Angel to ‘kindly unhand him’, Angel was tugging him down the hall. 

“Angel, what are—“

Angel stopped when they were outside Alastor’s bedroom door. “We’re gonna get it out of ya system, Smiles. Free of charge,” he said, releasing Al’s hand and crossing all four of his arms. He wanted to wrap them tightly around himself. “No need ta be sweet. No need ta play games. Let’s just get it over with. I have shit ta do.”

Why did the words hurt?

Why wasn’t he used to this by now?

There was a long pause. He could feel Alastor’s hesitation, but the Radio Demon eventually unlocked his bedroom door, placed a hand on the small of Angel’s back, and led him inside. The room was cold, stark, and colorless. He had expected Alastor to have more flair for decorating for some reason. Maybe the Radio Demon didn’t frequent his bedroom. Perhaps he would never let the hotel, the joke that it was to him, feel like home. 

“How do ya want me?” Angel said, pealing away his clothing and tossing them on the floor. He looked at Alastor who watched him, ears flattened against his head, seeming suddenly out of his element. The Radio Demon was used to being in control. Clearly without the upper hand, he was a deer in the headlights. Angel rolled his eyes, placed a hand on Alastor’s chest and pushed him onto the bed. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I know what I’m doin. Let’s get this out of ya system, alright? Just let me work my magic.”

“This was a bad idea,” Alastor said as Angel slid into his lap, but his lips trailed along the spider’s neck and those clawed hand me grabbed Angel’s ass, pulling him closer. 

“Ya wanna stop?” Angel asked, reaching down and unfastening the Radio Demon’s pants. 

“No.” He hissed as Angel freed his cock, wrapped a pale hand around it, and stroked it leisurely. Angel had known he would be big, but this… this was like some sick joke. The rod in his hand felt thick and heavy, throbbing under his touch; a gray long base and a fat red head. He tried to see it as just another cock, ignore who it was attached to, but the fact that it belonged to the Radio Demon made him feel so…

Hot, flushed, and breathless all at the same time. 

A hard kiss. Angel couldn’t help but melt into those kisses. The clawed hands gripped his ass and lifted him up over the rod. No no. He should say ‘wait.’ He should say ‘not yet.’ He should say… ‘mercy’. He felt too hot. His brain felt fuzzy. His heart hurt. It hurt.

But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want it to continue. He didn’t want to lose this proximity. He just wanted to melt in the strong arms around him. He had chased the hornet, and now it was stinging him. The mushroom-shaped tip pressed against the outside of his hole, pushing slowly—too slowly— inside him. Inch by inch.

And then, Al slammed him down on the cock all at once.

He screamed, back arching. Fuck it hurt, but it hurt so good. Alastor had stuffed him full, and his ass was struggling to accommodate. “Angel, are you alright,” Alastor whispered against his neck, groaning at the tight heat squeezing around him. “I should have gone slower. We need lubrication. I should have—“

Angel began riding the rod, and that shut Al up. He bounced and ground his hips down, feeling it ram deep up inside him. Fuck it hurt, but he couldn’t stop.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Alastor flipped them, taking back control. His back hit the mattress. “Angel, you’re crying,” Alastor said, kissing his cheeks. His hips stopped moving. “I was wrong. I think I—“

“Don’t stop,” Angel sobbed. “Please don’t stop.”

Alastor looked down at him, eyes and smile conflicted, and kissed him again, deeply. He kept moving.

“Is it out of ya system,” Angel whispered when they were done, feeling so… hollow… as he watched Alastor pull on his clothing. Angel buttoned up his own shirt with shaky hands. “Ya wanted ta nut in a slut, right? I’ve had plenty of one-time Johns like you. It ain’t a big deal.”

Alastor said nothing.

———

Aurelia moved in a way Angel could appreciate as a dancer. During the hunt, her strides seemed different, smoother and so much more instinctual. Her black eyes gave nothing away, and he wondered what was behind those eyes— what stories she had to tell. She seemed like a woman who had stories. Fairytales.

They had decided he would follow Aurelia on his second outing, and she had smiled with all her teeth. Sharpened teeth. She had tilted her head to the side and said, “Oh but I cannot wait to hunt with you. I think you shall like the hunt, my darling. I think we shall be like two spiders ensnaring our pray, and would that not be lovely?” 

He didn’t understand why she called it “the hunt.” He was transfixed by the change, so exhilarated with the possibilities, that the question never left lips. But now, creeping through a forest, watching her back as she moved, he wondered what exactly they were doing out there. The trees, living mortal trees, whispered secrets in the wind. He could hear them. He could smell the damp musk of the earth. He could see the sky flashing between leaves that formed canopies. A sky of scarlets, blues, yellows, pinks and oranges. A real evening sky. A living world sky.

Her hair was blonde in this form, but a golden blond unlike his own platinum. It fell down her back in wild curls. She really did look like a princess from a fairy tale, but for the black, black eyes.

“Aurelia, babes. I’m tryin ta go with the flow here, but what the fuck are we doin?” He said, ducking under a low hanging branch. 

“We all have a specialty,” she said, pausing and looking back at him. Her eyes were wild. “Jax takes care of what we call ‘cold cases’, finding the spirits overlooked for far too long. She is very good at it. Marjorie deals with your run of the mill underworld-bound souls. She prefers to help those who need her most. And I—“ A pause. A slow, dangerous smile. “Rupert and I both specialize in the problematic hell-bound. We do not accept the gray areas, oh no. Only the darkest and worst imaginable, only the wickedest, will do for us. We don’t want to regret our actions after all. We want to hurt our prey. Today, a man is burying a small, broken body in the woods. But he shall commit suicide shortly after, thinking he can escape his actions through death. We do not allow men like this to go softly into that good night. Men who kill those frail and dear little ones they should protect— ones they should never sully, the poor thing. Do you understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I understand.” Sully. Little one. He understood, and he could feel the anger boiling inside him. “Better be a special place in hell away from me. Better be burnin in agony for all eternity,” Angel growled. “That why ya gave me this fancy set of weapons?”

“Yes, my dear. An underworld blade. We are going to hunt him, hurt him, and drag him kicking and screaming into the fires of the darkest rings of hell. We shall watch him scream and know his soul is not worth a damn. Some people are not worth a “life” in hell. Some people just deserve to burn and burn and burn.”

Fuck. This bitch was fucking insane and he could not wait to see her in action. 

They were going to wreck this mother fucker’s shit!

The man did not go down easily. He was in his mid-forties, and he made so many excuses not worth repeating, pleas not worth hearing. He fought and ran and fell on the blade like a coward. He seemed so pathetic, that Angel might have felt bad but for knowing there was an unmarked grave so close-by. He worried. Who had come for the child’s soul, and were they gentle enough? Careful enough? Did they make the child feel safe? 

He would have felt better tearing this man apart if he knew for certain that the victim had been properly cared for. 

But he tore that man apart.

He fucking tore that man apart.

“I knew you would have a knack for it,” Aurelia said as they stood on a hellish cliff, looking down into a canyon of fire and screaming souls. “But I suspect you would have liked to pick up the little one first. You and Marjorie have that golden heart. It is… so very admirable. So beautiful. That heart. I am not as good with the comforting and the petting, but I do admire it in you and her.” 

She sighed, closing her eyes and reveling in the heat of the flames.

“Never woulda known ya could rip a man ta pieces with ya claws and teeth,” he said, eyes never leaving the burning figure of their victim. Burn. Burn. Burn. “Ya do this fa fun with your fella? You twos are sick fucks. I’m livin fa it though. Seriously.”

“He…” she sighed and smiled. “My Rupert and I, we are two halves of a beating heart, not whole or living once apart.”

“Damn. Ya really that much of a romantic?” Angel said, following her gliding form as they moved away from the canyon. “In my experience, most men I’ve fancied ain’t worth shit. They always break my heart.”

“It saddens me that you have been surrounded by unworthy fools. We shall change that.” She smiled sadly, shaking her head. “Rupert is a man of many words. Most of them are ridiculous. I suppose that is part of his charm. You see his eyes, how they smile? I always know... That behind those smiling eyes is a man who burns with an intelligence and a power so sharp, so fierce, that he need never take the world seriously. And yet he loves me, the weak fool that I am, so mortal and flawed in comparison. He loves me to the point of obsession— to the point of worship. I have fallen from the pedestal many times, and yet he always lifts me back up without a moment’s hesitation. I never understood why until I realized, ‘oh, this is not just love. He is I and I am he, and together we are whole. We were meant to be Soulbound.’” 

He was a little jealous. He had never… felt loved to that intensity, though he suspected what they apparently shared was some sort of freakish rarity. Some impossible once-in-a-millennia type of deal. 

“I don’t believe in soulmates personally,”he said as they stepped through the portal and into the Underworld. The blue was like a balm.

“Not quite the same, my dear,” she said, leading him into the bar that he was starting to become familiar with. “Soulbinding is a choice. One that should never be made lightly, if ever at all.” 

“Ah, Aurelia!” Rupert’s merry voice boomed from across the bar, making Angel jump a bit. He stood amongst the ladies, beaming from ear to ear. Both Marjorie and Jax were chuckling at his volume. Aurelia’s face lit up upon seeing him. The girl had it bad, huh? “I have intruded upon the sanctity of your ‘girls night’ and come to find what you made of our Angel during your hunt!”

“Oh, he was as beautiful as I expected.” She said, touching the man’s cheek. “A spider unlike any other. And we watched that bastard burn.”

“They always like this?” Angel said, plopping down next to Marjorie with a soft laugh.

“Oh honey, ya don’t know the half of it,” Marjorie said, sipping her drink. “Those two have been attached at the hip for centuries, frolickin’ about and breakin’ hearts as they go, cause fools can’t see their a package deal. Aint ever gonna get one ta leave the otha’, though ya might get a little lovin. Silly fools.” 

“Oh it is not our fault others feel jealousy and cannot share tenderness the way we can,” Aurelia said, shrugging and taking a seat. “It is such a pointless poison. Jealousy.”

Jealousy. 

A vision of Alastor flashed across Angel’s mind for some reason. 

“Ya don’t get jealous at all,” Angel said uncertainly, looking between them. “Ya don’t care about loyalty and monogamy and shit?”

They both laughed.

“Why should we feel jealous, I ask you,” Rupert said, smiling. “My darling Aurelia and I have no secrets from each other. We trust each other. She has been my best friend since we were alive. And when we were separated in the afterlife I… found a way to bring her to me. Is that not loyalty?”

“He once promised me sea,” Aurelia said with a smile. “In a stone around my neck. Why should I doubt that he loves me because we both enjoy playing bedroom games with others, mostly together?”

“Oh! Delightful! I remember that particular monologue! I think I said: ‘I will build you a kingdom out of ashes. I will carve you monuments from mountains. If you want the sea, I will turn it into a stone that you may wear around your neck. I will die trying to give you the world. I will do all I can to make you like a god so that your lust for power and revenge is finally sated. Just let me stay beside you, my dear, as your fool and confidant. Let me love you forevermore. That is all I ask,” he said, grinning as he repeated his own words in a deep, thundering voice. “Ah that was quite the speech I gave, wasn’t it? And really, I was prepared with a spell for the sea should you have asked me to act on my promises. I would have destroyed the world doing that, I think. Goodness gracious. Do you think I too would have ended up in hell then?” 

“Oh most definitely, my dear, but all worked out for the best,” she said, scrunching her nose as she sipped the drink brought out to her. Rupert wordlessly switched it with his own, which she seemed to like better. “You brought me here by being the fire in the night, blazing through the Underworld in a rage.” 

“They’re insane,” Jax said simply. 

“Yeah…yeah I think I picked up on that.” Angel said, looking between them. “Aurelia, ya said some stuff… when we first met afta’ that thing happened with Alastor… about pain, humiliation—,” he paused. “Never mind.”

“Oh darling. I have no shame, neither does Rupert, and we wore Marjorie and Jax down years ago with our nonsense, so no topic is off limits,” Aurelia said softly. “Trust, I believe I said, is everything.”

“And ya never… get hurt after? The words never stick with ya... roll around in ya head…” Angel said, trailing off.

Rupert’s peppy smile shifted. His expression became serious, almost grave. A little angry maybe? “I cannot abide by poor etiquette in such matters,” he said, leaning down and taking Angel’s chin in his hand, lifting up his head so that Angel’s off color eyes met that golden dragon gaze. “That is a bad experience, my dear. There should be a discussion of which words tingle and which ones burn. And after all is said and done, you should be treated with affection; made to feel safe, loved, and pampered. Nothing else is acceptable as far as I am concerned.” 

“People don’t usually cherish whores,” Angel said, shrugging. “I’m used ta it.” 

“We are here now,” Rupert said simply, tapping his cheek lightly. “Shall I escort you home today?” 

Angel blinked and flushed a bit in surprise. He glanced at Aurelia who smiled at him, nodded silently, and sipped Rupert’s drink. 

Well, why not? Why the fuck not? 

Let all of hell be jealous when he strutted up to the Hotel accompanied by a gorgeous fucking dragon. They didn’t need to know the particulars. Alastor didn’t need to know the details. Let them believe what they wanted to believe. 

And if it made the Radio Demon a little jealous, so be it.

“Ah, but you have the look of someone plotting wickedness,” Rupert teased. “If I am to play a role in this little scheme, do let me know. Aurelia says I am quite the actor. Come, my pretty pink spider. Adieu, ladies. Adieu.” He planted a kiss on Aurelia’s cheek before wrapping an arm around Angel’s waist and transporting them to Hell. 

“Oh that poor Radio Demon,” Aurelia purred. “I do hope he watches his tongue and tone around my dear Rupert.”

The three women laughed. 

———

Angel was starting to realize that every time he went from the Underworld to hell, the colors seemed so jarring, so stressful, in comparison. If the blue was like a balm, then the red was like a burn. “Most reapers live the Underworld, I’m guessin’,” he said, taking the arm Rupert offered him as they approached the hotel. 

“Naturally. It is the safest, and most comfortable option,” Rupert said, smiling down at him. “But many keep multiple homes between the different realms. If you should like to acquire housing, I can be of assistance.”

“Not yet, but maybe in the future,” Angel said softly, feeling his chest tighten. He had to… help Charlie with the hotel… and… there was Cherri… and…

The door swung open. Alastor stood in the archway, yellow teeth like blades as he smiled broadly— an over-extended smile. Tight. Angry. His red, wild eyes narrowed at Rupert. “Ah Angel Dust, welcome home. I see you have brought one of your ‘friends’, or perhaps the word is ‘clients’? I think we should talk. Now, if you please. I don’t think Miss Magne needs to meet one of your Johns, now do you? I expected a modicum more class and decency from you, but I suppose I should have known better.”

Rupert studied the Radio Demon with flashing gold eyes, lips falling into a grim line again. He leaned down so that their gazes were level. “Oh no no no,” he purred the words in a slightly chastising manner, stroking Alastor’s cheek in a tender threat. The Radio Demon went rigid, eyes flicking into dials at the touch. The air around them buzzed with static and strange symbols. Rupert seemed… unimpressed. Unaffected. Undaunted. “We are only supposed to mentally eviscerate and emotionally unravel the people we DISLIKE, my little red popinjay. A fair mistake, I am sure, but do not make it again or I shall begin to DISLIKE YOU greatly.” He straightened, smiling a wide and pleasant smile— all sweetness. “And now that we have that unfortunate business out of the way, do tell me about those ears of yours. A deer, I presume? Have you a matching tail? Is it red? May I see it?” 

Alastor bristled. “Touch me again and I —“

“Ah! Will you cut out my wagging tongue, will you tear me apart with your silly colorful shadows, will you endeavor to rip my flesh with your gnashing knife teeth, my deer? No. You will do nothing. You, are a deer before a dragon. But I shall keep my hands to myself nevertheless, excepting where our Angel is concerned.” Rupert took Angel’s hand in his own and kissed the back of it lightly— a lingering kiss. “A pleasure to have been in your company as always, my darling. You tell me if this one pesters you or if you decide that a change in residence is necessary.”

“I’ll call ya, handsome. Thanks fa bein such a gentleman,” Angel said, with a soft chuckle as Rupert offered him a galant bow and strode off. “What a man,” he sighed.

Alastor grabbed him by the arm and wrenched him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Review if you enjoyed it!!! 😭😂
> 
> This chapter was a long one!


	6. The Tail is Fluffy

Chapter 6

Angel’s back hit the door with a thud.

The kiss knocked him off his game. It was a rough kiss, one of those long deep movie-grade kisses that can knock the wind out of a fella, make him feel all weak in the knees and lightheaded. He couldn’t help but respond in kind, couldn’t help but moan, pant, and kiss back like a fucking idiot. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around the Radio Demon’s neck— couldn’t help but let that bastard gain the upper hand. 

He ripped off Alastor’s bow tie, tangled his hands in that cherry red hair, and pulled the man to him with all four arms.

And that’s how he ended up…

Underwear? On the ground. Skirt? Flipped up. Shirt? Ripped open. 

He only remembered where the fuck they were and that he was supposed to be arguing with Alastor when he was turned around, hands braced against the door, while two fingers began to prod and tease his hole, making him shiver and spread his thighs unconsciously. “Angel, my dear, if I find another man’s seed inside you I swear to Satan you will not walk straight for a week!” The threat was spoken in such a light and bouncy manner, but punctuated by a rough finger breaching the rim of his tight pucker, sliding deep inside him, and rubbing his prostate, only to be quickly followed by the second digit. They scissored themselves, stretching him. How had he ended up like this, getting fingered in the front lobby of the hotel in broad fucking daylight?

He vaguely thought to himself that he really should ask Alastor to stop, but the teeth sinking into his neck while those fingers fucked him had his brain all kinds of mush. So good. It felt so good. He didn’t want to stop.

No. No this wasn’t healthy. 

“Not h-here, Smiles,” he said, squirming. “Ya can’t just… fuck, what if someone…hahhh ahhh. Mercy, Al.”

Fingers gone. Skirt down. Shirt fixed.

“Come with me, Angel. We need… to have a little chat,” Al quipped.

Angel found it really hard to argue with Alastor while the seething Radio Demon dragged him down the hallway. He tried thrashing, kicking, and digging his heels into the tacky red carpet, but that only resulted in the other man scooping him up and carrying him to the bedroom. He vaguely heard Husk say “what the fuck” from somewhere behind them. 

“Al, fa fuck’s sake, use your fuckin words. Put me down! Put me down!” He shouted, looking over Alastor’s shoulder and making eye contact with the disgruntled cat who appeared to be slowly backing away from the pair. “Husk, get the girls or I swear ta god I’ll have ya neutered! This man has lost his goddamn mind! Smiles, listen ta me when I’m talkin’ ta ya. I said PUT ME DOWN!”

Alastor put him down alright. He plopped him down on the bed with the door locked shut behind them. If this bastard thought Angel was just gonna bend over and take his cock again, he had another thing coming to him. Angel half expected the Radio Demon to pounce him. He was prepared to start biting, but then, instead of ravishing him, Alastor started pacing. The crazy fucker started pacing! He sat back and watched the other man fume for a while, growing increasingly more amused the longer time stretched.

Alright, so this uptight bastard clearly had no idea how to process his emotions, that much was fucking clear as day. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed so fucking strained, his brows were furrowed, eyes flashing. His cane kept whispering with audience interference. 

After what felt like several incredibly awkward moments, Alastor suddenly swiveled on his heel to face him, eyes and smile deceivingly pleasant. Another time, Angel might have been frightened by the sudden change, but the more he observed Alastor the more it became clear to him that the other man was simply struggling to gain the upper hand of a situation he had no control over, and failing spectacularly. “Angel, mon cher,” he purred, all sweetness, approaching slowly and taking the spider’s hand in his own, lips pressing against the spot Rupert had kissed. Angel mused it seemed as though Alastor wanted to disinfect him of the other man’s touch with a lingering kiss of his own. And speaking French all of a sudden? Well, he had to have known his voice sounded especially sexy when it crawled in another language. “Let’s eighty-six all the misunderstandings, my dear. Now, I require an answer on the up and up— on the level! Are you making whoopiee with that wet sock, that grifter, that smooth-talking twit?” With each insult, the air around them seemed to buzz and hiss like the white noise of a dead radio channel. 

“Not your business, handsome,” Angel said, drawing his hand back when those teeth nipped him. Fucking rude. “Now now. I oughtta be out of ya system, right? Why would ya care if I got myself a fella?” Silence. “Well, if ya don’t got nothin’ ta say I’m gonna head out. I’m still pissed at ya fa tryin ta fuck me against the door and then draggin me here in the first place. I ain’t a fuckin toy ya can carry about.” 

Alastor leaned down. “Angel,” he said. “I do apologize for… overstepping… and bringing you in here against your will, but I would very much like to have this private chat with you away from prying ears. You see, it has come to my attention that the emotions I was experiencing were unfortunately not of the temporary sort. As such, I think it would be beneficial if you completely renounced your chippy ways and allowed me to court you properly.” All flash and smile but phrase “chippy ways” and the word “unfortunately” stood out to Angel.

He blinked several times, studying that impenetrable smile. Angel sighed and shut his eyes. This conceited son of a bitch. “Al, if you’re tryin ta ask me out, rephrase it, ‘cause it sounds like an insult. It really does. And honestly, I think ya might be too stupid ta realize that’s not appealin ta me. Or, at the very least, you’re shit when it comes ta this stuff.” 

“Oh? I simply wanted to get across that I will not stand for you necking—“

Angel placed a finger over Alastor’s lips. “No no no no,” he said, cutting off the quick-talking Radio Demon, much to the other man’s chagrin. He had noticed Rupert cut the bastard off mid sentence, and honestly that seemed to work wonders for shutting him up before he said something terrible. “See, that possessive hurtful shit? That’s the problem. I told ya, I like it when you’re spicy, but I REALLY like when you’re sweet. So if ya can’t say somethin’ sweet ta me when you’re trying ta make me ya main squeeze, well, then this ain’t worth my time.”

The Radio Demon paused, went very still, and considered him. He looked flustered, a bit anxious. “Angel,” he said softly, ears flattening as he spoke. The word seemed a little uncertain, slower and softer. “I am sorry for how I have behaved. I have been… a bit of sap. I was confused— am confused. I am… unaccustomed to feeling this way, to carrying a torch for someone, but I am, indeed, stuck on you. That is to say, I do not generally like people, but I like you. I like being around you. I do like hurting you, it’s true, but I do not enjoy making you sad. I cannot figure out how to do one but not the other. I would like to take you out on the town to a ritzy place— a proper date.”

Angel smiled, placing a hand on Alastor’s cheek. “There now, handsome. That was sweet,” he said, flushing when Alastor’s lips brushed the inside of his palm. “I like it when ya hurt me, but there are certain words that burn in just the wrong way, and… I want ya ta respect me as a person more than ya do. Fuck, Marjorie said not ta chase the hornet. Ya better be a butterfly.” Confusion. Red eyes squinted, trying to understand. Angel chuckled. “We’ll talk about it later. Anotha’ time.”

“That dragon fellow —“

“His name’s Rupert. He’s the husband of one of my girl buddies. I got three new gal pals. They’ve been helpin’ me out. Her name is Aurelia. She’d hate ya, but you would like her. She’s fiery and strong, real ballsy, but all proper and shit. And Rupert don’t sleep with his pals, though I’ll admit he’s fuckin gorgeous.” Alastor stiffened slightly. Angel rolled his eyes. “I won’t sleep with anyone else, so stop worryin’.” Angel spoke slowly, enjoying the feeling of running his fingers through the soft red hair. He heard rustling from somewhere behind Al, and remembered what Rupert said about a tail. Was Alastor’s tail… there was no way. Was he wagging his tail?

Oh fuck. His fucking heart couldn’t take it. 

“Oh! Lady friends?” Alastor’s eyes lit up and Angel remembered that Alastor had a whole posse of girl buddies. Crazy cannibal bitches, but still. This was something the idiot could relate to— could appreciate. “Aces! Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“Ya were actin like an ass and I wanted ta teach ya a lesson.” Angel said plainly. 

“You minx—“ The smile shifted into an amused smirk as Alastor leaned in to kiss him.

The door crashed open.

Vaggie stood there with a spear, ready to apparently take on the radio demon. Alastor and Angel both looked at her, caught quite literally in the act, lips millimeters apart. Alastor straightened and cleared his throat, putting his hands behind his back. “I take it you two figured it out?” She quipped, looking at them with unamused eyes. She dropped Angel’s pair of lacy red underwear on the carpet in front of them. “I’m guessing these are yours. Please don’t fuck in the lobby.”

God fucking dammit. 

“H-ha! Y-yeah, he’s a jerk and I’m irresistibly gorgeous,” Angel said, standing and stretching, trying to act casual as the blush burned on his cheeks. “What can ya do? Sorry fa incitin’ a panic, but when a fella picks me up and DOESN’T LISTEN WHEN I SAY TA PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN I get a little anxious. Don’t have great experiences of bein picked up, ya know?” Red eyes flicked to Angel when he stood. One of Alastor’s hands shot out from behind his back, placed the head of his cane on Angel’s shoulder, and pressed down lightly until the pretty spider sat back on the bed. “Ah, I’m… he still wants ta talk. I’ll call if I need ya,” Angel said with a little laugh. 

“You sure?” Vaggie said but she was already backing out of the room and closing the door.

“I’m sure,” he said. “Al, stop doin those dial eyes. It’s creepy. Ya scared her shitless. So ya don’t like people in ya business, I get it. Ya want this ta be your dirty little secret?”

Alastor shook his head, grabbed Angel’s face in his hands, and pulled him into another one of those deep, slow kisses. “No no! Not at all, my dear. Never you fear, I would prefer others were, indeed, aware of our newly-formed affinity,” he said, lips traveling along Angel’s neck, teeth nibbling in a way that made shivers run down Angel’s spine. “Why don’t you get all dolled up and I will take you out on the town tonight? That is, if you are up to the task after I am done with you. I would very much like to hear about these new friends of yours.”

“After you’re done with me?” Angel repeated, arching a brow. “That’s pretty fuckin cocky of ya ta assume I’m down fa anythin after the stunt ya just pulled.” He ran his fingers through Alastor’s hair, coiled his hand around one of those pooflike ears, stroking and scratching it lightly. The Radio Demon went all fussy and rigid at first, but a shiver ran through him, and those red eyes started to glaze over. Cute. This part of Alastor was fuckin cute; all flushed, confused and content. He pulled the Radio Demon on top of him, coaxing the man to rest his face in his chest fluff.

He wasn’t kidding about his chest being the best pillow in hell. Talk about a secret weapon. 

Alastor blinked slowly, shivering. His eyelids seemed to have grown heavy. Angel used his second set hands to peel away the man coat while his first massaged those ears. How had he never seen the fuckin deer tail before? His delight at watching that tail wag spastically through a hole perfectly formed around it in the tailored pants was just unsurpassed. It was, indeed, a shade of bright crimson tipped in black with a white underside. And it was… very fluffy. So wonderfully fluffy. “So ya do have a tail,” he said, chuckling to himself. 

Alastor grumbled something inaudible in his chest, limbs going lax. 

They would see if Alastor was up to the task of a night on the town after ANGEL was done with him. He took hold of the tail, stroking it lightly. Alastor’s eyes snapped open.

Dial eyes. White noise. Weird eldritch symbols. The whole nine yards. “Do not touch it,” Alastor growled in a strange, distorted voice through gritted teeth. 

Angel released the tail. “Alright alright, Mistah control freak,” he teased. “But I’ll remind ya that ya were just fingerin me like ten minutes ago and ya happen ta be currently face-planted in my tit fluff. Just sayin’.”

A sharp glare. “Don’t touch it, Angel,” he said.

“Jeez. Alright alright. I won’t touch it. I’m sorry, Smiles. Didn’t know.” He kissed one of the ears, coaxing Alastor to settle down again. “It’s real cute though. Just so ya know.” 

“Cute?” The word sounded like a curse, all staccato and bitter.

“Yeah, Al. Cute,” Angel said, offering the Radio Demon a sheepish smile. “Ain’t nothin wrong with me thinkin my fella has some cute attributes, is there? I like it. It’s cute.”

A pause. 

The tail began wagging again when the words “my fella” left his mouth. He tried pretending he hadn’t noticed, biting his lip to hold in the giggle bubbling in his chest. 

“…Fine, you may touch it, but no more than 10 seconds,” Alastor grumbled. 

He ended up touching the tail for longer than 10 seconds.

——

Recently Angel had discovered that the thing about hell was, no matter how purportedly ‘upscale’ an establishment claimed to be, there always existed a layer of sin— putrid, rotting, and festering— under the surface. The best pies you could find might sell human meat, the best clothes you might come across were made through slave labor and abuse, and most clubs doubled as sex trafficking rings. Good music was made by men under duress and beautiful rooms hid rats in their walls. 

He could feel it when he and Alastor went out for the evening. He saw the sad, tired eyes of the staff, the hastily bandaged fingers of the man playing the saxophone with his non dominant hand, and the giggling cannibals in the corners. A façade of civility. A distorted picture show. 

He knew Alastor had been observing him closely, trying to decipher his mood. He plastered on his best smile, flirted and fussed over the Radio Demon until the man grew satisfyingly irritated with him, and did his best to appear elated. He was elated, after all, to be out and about with Alastor. He just… didn’t like where they were. How could he explain? 

Maybe that was the trouble in falling madly in love with a place. No wonder the girls carried around sunglasses that shifted hell into a more pleasing half-vision of the underworld. No wonder they sometimes needed to turn the world blue.

He had heard jazz music during one of their drives down those dark streets. He had seen blue music notes floating through the air, shimmering, and coiling around passerby’s with sweet promises. He had peaked into a building and found a speakeasy like something from the past, with everyone dressed in such a comfortingly familiar manner, dancing and listening to music.

No stink of death. No rot of malice. Darkness and sweet blues instead of harsh reds. 

He wished he could take Al there.

He brushed away the thought immediately. It led him down far too many rabbit holes that he couldn’t afford to fixate upon just yet… like why was he starting something with a cheeky, possessive demon when he knew, deep down, he wanted… no, better not to worry about it just yet. It was so early. He had just gotten the job. This was his first date with the Radio Demon. It was too early to worry about that shit. Future Angel could suffer with those dilemmas. 

He needed to just let himself have fun. 

“Angel, I dare say you seem quite miserable, my dear fellow,” Alastor said decisively, taking Angel’s hand and squeezing it under the table. A ritzy place, a nice round booth with plenty of space, and decent music. He should have been elated. “Is there somewhere more suited to your tastes?”

“No. No. Al, I’m real happy ta be here with ya,” he said, returning the squeeze. “It’s just… hell, ya know? Ever want somethin better?”

“Bushwa!” Alastor exclaimed, nearly choking on his drink with a laugh. “I never took you for an IDEALISTIC fool, Angel. Don’t tell me Charlie has been rubbing off on you? My dear, she’s a charming Demon gal but a Dumb Dora if ever I saw one. This redemption nonsense is just that— nonsense. Horsefeathers. You just listen to me and all will be copacetic.”

Angel smiled faintly, rubbing circles with his thumb over the clawed hand clasped in his own. “Mm hmm,” he said, eyes drifting to the saxophone player. His gaze felt hazy as he thought about the Underworld, imagined the dark blacks, the soft blues, the milky purples, and the dreamy pinks. “I don’t know, Al. I think there’s a better place out there… fa me.”

The hand holding his own tightened its grip, like an anchor, keeping his mind from drifting too far. He looked back at Al, saw the analytical red gaze studying him through narrowed eyes, and leaned in to kiss the Radio Demon on the cheek. 

Alastor remained stoic, but Angel found the hand holding his own released itself from the clasp. Alastor wrapped an arm around him, claws digging into Angel’s hip as if to say ‘You’re not going anywhere.’ Well, he supposed he could let this one slide. He rested his head on Alastor’s shoulder, leaning against him. His eyes unfocused as he breathed in the other man’s scent. Wood. Coffee. Warmth. The rest of Hell melted away when he did that, when he unfocused his eyes, when he let Alastor’s cologne lull him into a state of contentment, and when he allowed himself to feel only the sharp tingle of those clawed fingers on his hip. The music helped too. Lips lightly caressing his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

Then, a familiar voice broke the spell.

“Well well well. I’ll be damned,” Valentino’s sadistic purr made his stomach drop. “If ain’t my little wayward Angel Cakes cozyin up to a cannibal. Hello there, baby. Already in a need of a new Daddy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Review if you enjoy it!
> 
> Your reviews are the tastiest potato chips. So delicious. So crunchy.


	7. Jumping Badly

Chapter 7

If he didn’t look up, would Valentino just disappear? Could he close his eyes, keep his face nuzzled into the crook of Alastor’s neck, and pretend the pimp wasn’t there? Could they move past this without any drama, bullshit, or violence.

No. 

If the way Alastor’s smile expanded into a dangerous Cheshire Cat grin while his claws cut into Angel’s hip was any indication, then this could not end peacefully. He lifted his head from Alastor’s shoulder, instantly missing the lightheaded pleasure of cuddling against him, and studied Valentino with the most uninterested stare he could manage. Anything else would feed the bastard’s already inflated ego. Apathy. That was the best defense.

“Hey Val,” he said, flushing a bit as Alastor pulled him closer. “As ya can see, I found one. So I’m all good. Come on, Smiles. Let’s blow this joint. It’s just like I thought, this place has rats.” 

Okay, so maybe he was a LITTLE petty. 

He could feel the air practically crackling. Valentino inhaled from a cigarette between his fingers and blew a plume of red smoke towards him. He prepared to hold his breath. However, for some reason, the smoke dissipated before reaching him. The moth’s sleazy smile twitched downwards, just briefly. His soulless red eyes narrowed behind heart-shaped glasses. “Angie, Baby, I think we need to have a little chat, you and I.” 

Gators growl. A low, guttural reptilian noise. He didn’t know Alastor could make the same sound. Maybe he wasn’t all deer after all. Maybe a little bit of the bayou had seeped in. 

Angel placed a finger over Alastor’s lips. Static buzzed around them. The man’s cane had begun to boo and hiss. He didn’t need anyone defending his honor, and he sure as hell didn’t need two crazy fuckin overlords fighting over him in a tiny room filled with fancy, expensive shit. “I don’t see why,” he said, flushing when the Radio Demon bit his finger. Okay, so maybe shushing him in public wasn’t a good idea. He almost drew his hand back, but then Alastor’s tongue licked the wound gently. Instant distraction. Heat flooded to his cheeks and pooled in his crotch. Well fuck, how would he ever maintain any composure around this bastard when everything he did got him all hot and bothered. 

“Baby, I don’t think you understand,” Valentino purred, jerking him out of his aroused haze. The man moved closer, stopping when Alastor’s antlers began to grow, eyes shifting into dials. Another uncertain pause. “…You had a contract, my man.”

Angel snapped back: “Honey I don’t think ya see,” he said. “I found a way ta set myself free.”

“Please do… keep a five foot distance… from my person… and Mon Cher,” Alastor said, voice dipping in and out of frequency, seeming to sputter and echo in a strange, distorted manner. That growl rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest. The horns kept growing. “Thank you.”

“I’ve had a little chat with Lady Lilith. She clarified some things. Now who did you suck or fuck to get yourself out of my employ. I know it wasn’t this little deer daddy.” Valentino had stopped moving forward at least. He eyed Alastor, seeming to balance the pros and cons of an altercation with the unpredictable and violent Radio Demon. His words, however, had an unintended effect. Alastor pulled Angel wordlessly into his lap. He could feel that massive bulge pressed against his ass and instantly regretted wearing a short dress. See, this was why he needed to wear more pants. Did Alastor realize how big his dick was, or how turned on he would be just from sitting in his lap while the bastard went full on wendigo? Probably not. 

“Awww that how ya keep Vox around? Sorry ta inform ya, but I got more goin fa me than just my body. I know it’s a strange concept ta ya. Anyway, it’s not ya business, now is it? All that matters, is I ain’t your bitch anymore.” Angel said, squirming and readjusting on the lap. “I’m free, Val. Ya don’t have any hold over—“

Valentino drew his gun so quickly that Angel barely had time to respond before the shot sounded. There was the briefest flash of soft blue light, the bullet thundering as it hit an unseen force, and then black shadowy tentacles sprang from all directions, taking advantage of the confusion. 

Anyone who was there, would probably say the Radio Demon somehow blocked the shot, or perhaps Valentino missed point-blank. Regardless, the two overlords began mauling each other shortly after, and Angel found himself taking mental inventory of all the shit they broke as they viciously attacked one another. Claws and teeth. Tentacles and gunshots. 

A chandelier. 2 walls. A stage. A saxophone. 6 barstools. A display case filled with hundreds of bottles of alcohol. A curtain. The ceiling. The carpet. 7 tables. 23 chairs. 6 paintings. 4 vases. All of the windows. 

“Why the fuck are ya even fightin’ right now!” He found himself shouting. “Fa fucks sake! What is accomplishin’?” The minute the words left his mouth he realized how ridiculous he sounded. How many turf wars had he been a part of with Cherri? How many times had he fought with random demons in the streets? In all his years in hell, how many men had he watched fight over him while grinning and egging them on? 

Why did it all suddenly seem so ludicrous? So pointless?

He was laughing. Laughing and laughing. He couldn’t stop laughing.

He hated this place. Fuck, he really did.

“The bitch lost his goddamn mind,” he heard Valentino say. “This is why a bitch needs a strong hand to keep him in line.” He spat out blood with the last word. He looked… worse for wear. Antenna bent. A gouge in his side. Coat covered in blood.

No wonder he seemed willing to give up the fight so soon. 

“Angel, my dear. Come here,” Alastor’s voice was close to his ear, lowered and coaxing. He felt the Radio Demon’s arms wrap around him, felt himself being lifted. Lips crashed into his, stifling the laughter; the laughter that wouldn’t stop. “My apologies, my good sir, but it seems I must turn my attentions to a domestic concern. We will finish our quarrel another time!” 

Time and space shifted around them as Alastor teleported them some ways down the road. Angel looked up then, hastily wiping away at the tears. When had the laughter turned to tears? He didn’t know. He checked the other man over for wounds. A couple small scratches here and there, but no truly concerning damage. However, his horns were still long and his voice was still distorted

“Al, are you ok—“

“Angel, please explain the blue light,” Alastor said, looking down at him.

Silence. 

“I dunno.” Angel said after some time.

“Angel, who—“

“There’s no sex involved. No nudity. No drugs. No sluttin’. No whorin’. No daddies. No bullshit. That’s all ya need ta know. I ain’t ready ta say more yet.” Angel paused, feeling Alastor’s eyes glaring drown at him. “Please, Al. Can ya trust me on this? I can’t say nothin, okay? I can’t. I got some protection, but it’s… please can we be okay?”

Alastor seemed to consider this..

“Well, my dear, if that is all you can say then that is all you can say. I will endeavor to ignore the fact that you are keeping secrets from me, but I might passive aggressively comment on it from time to time.” Alastor said, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “I apologize for getting into a scrape on our first date… well, actually, that former Pimp of yours was infuriating, so really, I’m not sorry. I am only sorry that it upset you, but I wish I had ripped his throat out.”

“Yeah, I guess I haven’t been my usual self lately, huh?” Angel said softly, resting his head against Alastor’s shoulder. 

“Evolving,” Alastor said, lips briefly twitching in the briefest flicker of a frown. “Have you taken up this redemption nonsense?”

“Why, ya gonna drag me back down ta hell if I grow a pair of wings?” Angel teased.

The Radio Demon appeared to consider the question. “Hmm. Maybe,” he said, grinning. “Or perhaps I will find a way to grow a pair my own so that I may follow you.”

“I’d pull ya up with me,” Angel said softly, chuckling. “It would be like a two fa one deal. They’d be pissed. Ya’d ruin heaven fa everyone.” 

He wanted to tell Alastor there was a third option, a better option, but he kept his mouth shut and enjoyed the soft chatter of the animated Radio Demon. He didn’t mind being carried around this time. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be lulled out of hell by the other man’s voice and scent. The place it transported him to was just as nice as the Underworld, cozy and warm. It felt like home. 

He wondered what it would be like to have both at the same time. 

But that was silly…

~ 1 month later ~

She had just turned 18, a senior in high school. She had chocolate brown hair, soft green eyes, and a crooked smile. She was smart, hardworking, and learned quickly. She was an artist. She didn’t have “natural” talent, but she made up for it with practice, diligence, and passion. She could have been something. She had promise.

It wasn’t fair.

That’s what she told him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

And really… it wasn’t fair. 

As he kneeled beside her, watching the black car swerve away, he wondered when he might run into that driver some day in hell. That driver, who hit a girl crossing at a crosswalk, and drove away. Drove away. Drove away.

“Listen, babes. I know it ain’t fair,” he said as he kneeled beside her quaking ghostly form. “And believe me, if I ever run into that fucker who hit ya, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. But—“

“You don't understand,” she said, shaking her head as she rocked back and forth. “I-I have plans. I'm supposed to go to college. I'm supposed to fall in love. I'm supposed to get married and… maybe have kids. Im supposed to make something… I don’t know… something beautiful. I’m supposed to have all these things. I am not supposed to die yet. It’s not fair. I’m not supposed to die yet. Why do I have to die because of some asshole? Why does he get to take everything?! Why does he get to live? Why does he get to leave me to die alone… in the dark? Is this happening because I snuck out to see a girl? Is this happening because I did wrong?” As she spoke, her voice cracked. Her face crumbled. “I just… I liked her. I didn’t mean… I didn’t know… I just liked her.”

“No, kid. No,” he whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. “That’s got nothin ta do with it. You’re a good person and ya goin ta a good place. A beautiful place. What happened tonight happened because sometimes sad things and bad things happen ta good people. Ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong. Ya don’t deserve this and it ain’t fair, kid. It ain’t fair. But ya ain’t here alone. I’m here with ya. I know it don’t mean much, but I’m here with ya. Ya ain’t here alone. I’m gonna help ya, and as soon as   
you’re ready, I’m gonna take ya somewhere beautiful.”

He pulled her into a hug, carefully and slowly, felt her body tremble with sobs in the embrace. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything wrong?” She whispered between hiccups and sniffles. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, kid. I got ya file, ya know? It’s pretty pristine,” he said, giving her a sheepish smile. 

“I never got to kiss her,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. “I chickened out. I never got to kiss her.”

“There will be gals and kisses, kid. Ya life ended but a new chapter is beginnin’… ya know,I got myself a man on the otha’ side. Death don’t mean the end of romance. It don’t mean the end of art eitha’,” he said, brushing a strand of spectral hair behind her ear. “Ya can still be somethin’. Ya can still thrive.”

Her sobs slowed. The shivers softened. “So… will I be able to see… people I lost now?”

“Ya got someone ya been wantin ta see on the otha side?”

“My abuela?” She whispered, lifting her head and smiling back uncertainly through her tears.

“I got good news fa ya then.” He said, helping her carefully to her feet. “Ya wanna see her? I think she’ll be real excited ta see ya.” 

He loved it, helping people. Marjorie said it was his gift, providing comfort to those in need. He didn’t know about all that, but he really did feel like he was making some small difference with each person he helped transition from one realm to the next. He felt his own heart and mind expanding, felt himself changing; feeling more deeply, caring more strongly, and wanting more desperately to chase the high of giving. Giving kindness. Giving love. Giving empathy. Giving a helping hand. 

But what he fucking hated was how shit he was at realm hopping. The girls said he was making surprisingly fast progress, but he hated that he couldn’t do it perfectly yet. He hated feeling like he might be inconveniencing his pals, forcing them to tag along until he could do his job by himself.

‘Don’t jump without us,’ they had told him.

…Sometimes he jumped without them.

In this instance, he managed to hop the girl to her Abuela’s home in the Underworld on the first try, and after watching their tearful reunion… he collapsed.

He fucking collapsed.

He held it together until they were out of sight, rounded a corner, and face planted under a flowering pink tree. 

He seriously fucking collapsed.

-

He awoke in Rupert’s arms. The world moved by fast. He was being carried. Songs buzzed around him, reapers moving like blue fireflies in his peripheral. “Hey handsome,” he said softly. The Hive. They were in the Hive. “How much trouble am I in?”

“Ah welcome to the waking world, my darling,” Rupert exclaimed, looking down at him with a wide grin. “You have caused quite the stir. Quite the stir, indeed, and I shall not forgive you, for you have given me the 13th biggest fright of my afterlife. Why, I was simply traumatized to hear an itsy bitsy pink spider had fallen in the streets. I thought, ‘oh no that must be my dearest Angel’ and then it truly was, and now Aurelia is in such a state of distress that I shall never calm her. And when she is in distress the tiger is in distress. You have distressed my tiger. How dare you.”

Angel bit back his chuckle. It hurt to breath, much less laugh. “Ya gonna take me home or do I hafta suffer through all the yellin?”

“Oh, they did plenty of yelling at your unconscious body yesterday,” Rupert said, stepping into a dimly lit room full of strange pink lights. He laid Angel in a bed. “You have been unconscious for… 3 days?”

“WHAT?!”

“Yes. No. Wait… 4 days. My apologies. 4 days. You have been unconscious for 4 days,” Rupert said decisively. The pink lights danced around them, lulling him into a dreamy state of wakefulness. “I do not envy you, my Angel. I wonder how might you explain yourself to that finicky little deer of yours. How adorable. I am certain he will be in quite the most riled state of agitation, but if he does overstep let me know and I shall swat him on the nose for you.”

“The pink lights… feel nice… in the dark.” Angel whispered, breathing in deeply with a little less pain.

“I know. I have taken you from colorful room to colorful room so the underworld might heal your naughty soul of the damage you have done. It’s like physical therapy, I suppose. You hurt yourself jumping to soon, though you did a very good job and I commend you. But we must wait. All good things come to those who wait. Patience, my spider, is a virtue.”

“It’s a pain in the ass is what it is,” Angel grumbled. “Fuck, Al is gonna have a shit fit. I gotta get back ta hell.” 

“And what is your cover story?” Rupert said, leaning back and folding his hands. He did not bother to hide the mischievous amusement from his face, or the laughing smile.

“It ain’t his business?”

Rupert choked on a laugh. “Oh! You must tell me how that goes later. Ha! Gracious, that is perfect. You must tell me what he says to that. Truly, you must. But in all seriousness, perhaps a half truth would be best. You hurt yourself on a delivery. You stayed with friends. You hurt yourself badly. Don’t simply say it is not his business. He will go mad. I would go mad, but that is mostly because I am terribly nosy.”

Angel shook his head. “The more details I give him, the harder it’ll be ta keep this shit a secret. He’s romance dumb but he’s a smart guy, and every time I have ta leave fa a delivery, I feel his eyes on me… analyzin’ and calculatin’. He’s been tryin his best ta trust me, and he’s been a helluva boyfriend so far this past month, but the more details I give the harder it’s gonna be.”

“Well,” Rupert sighed. “I have said my peace, so you know my thoughts on the matter. You should soon be ready for me to take you back to hell.”

“Ya can’t carry me. I gotta walk,” Angel said, sliding off the strange, stiff bed.

“Angel, I hate to say it,” Rupert said, arching a brow. “But walking will hurt very badly for a while and I must insist for the sake of my chivalrous heart that you let me—“

“FUuuuuCk!!” 

“I did say it would hurt, didn’t I? Why does no one ever listen to me? Oh goodness. Here now. I have got you. Please stop always ignoring the advice of all of your friends who love you. I feel I am not asking for too much.” 

Question: How does the Radio Demon react when his boyfriend disappears for four days, only to return injured and in the arms of a… Rupert.

Answer: Badly. Very badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Kudos and Review if you enjoyed it!
> 
> I truly love reading and responding to all of your wonderful words.


	8. This is Fine

Chapter 8

Four days. 

Angel had been gone for four days.

Charlie wasn’t sure what to make of it. In all honesty, she felt like Angel might be in wonderful hands, despite all the secrecy. Over the past month, he had been clean, happy, and so incredibly helpful. He offered to cook dinner for the residents frequently, he managed chores without being asked, and he began a shockingly normal relationship with The Radio Demon. This job of his couldn’t be so bad if it made him so good, could it? Sure, he wouldn’t tell them anything about it, but… she just got the feeling he was doing good things… maybe that was stupid or optimistic… but the “goodness” seemed to glow around him.

Alastor, on the other hand, was at his wit’s end.

Some bubbly blue woman had stopped by, let them know Angel was injured “on the job” and undergoing treatment, and then sashayed out of the hotel without a second glance. She disappeared before Alastor could charm any more information out of her, and when he returned to the hotel after trying to track her down, his smile looked more like a snarl. 

Charlie watched the way he paced, worried, glanced at the door, and discreetly coddled Fat Nuggets. Seeing the Radio Demon take the tiny pig out for walks was secretly one of her favorite parts of the day. She noticed the pig always had a cute little sweater on, often matching Alastor’s red coat, and she wished she could take a discreet picture to show Angel when he returned. Nifty tried once, but Alastor looked like a ball of angry red static and they soon gave up on the endeavor.

Four days. Four days was… a long time… to take to heal in hell. Sure, superficial wounds and bruises might linger, and anything related to sin might take a while depending on the nature of the injury, but surprisingly something of an extreme nature would usually figure itself out rather speedily. A paper cut might last a week. Decapitation? Give that a day. Four days was a long time… but the blue woman had seemed so warm and gentle. She had spoken with a sweet, cozy kind of voice that set them all at ease. Well, everyone but Alastor. 

“Ladies, I hate to intrude upon the conversation,” he had said, striding over with an ingratiating grin while the woman was vaguely explaining the situation to herself and Vaggie. “But I do believe I have a vested interest in this topic. I would appreciate the opportunity to SEE my Angel. Perhaps you might take me to him! If he is injured, I think it only natural that I care for him.”

“Alastor,” she had said, with a slow smile. “Well if ain’t Angel’s beau. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, Sugah. Angie does think so highly of you, his silly red hornet wearin’ butterfly wings for love.”

“Funny! Based on your accent, I assume you must be Marjorie. Unfortunately, Angel refuses to tell me much of anything about you,” he bit back, teeth clamped tight in his permanent grin. “Or what exactly it is you do.”

“Oh, well, I did tell him never ta chase a hornet. He’s just bein’ careful,” she said lightly, chuckling. “Give it a few days and we’ll have him back in ya arms, safe and sound. Rupert’s gonna take real good care of him in meantime.”

Charlie had watched Alastor’s smile twitch, watched him cock his head to the side, and watched Marjorie merely smile sweetly in response to the hissing and crackling in the room. She wasn’t sure what any of it meant, but she felt like she might be witnessing an argument; one that ended when Marjorie sashayed out the door and seemed to vanish from there. 

Alastor raced after her, demanding answers, and never found her. 

Now, Charlie wondered how long Alastor would maintain this façade of control. She had seen the two men growing closer over the past month, bantering and flirting; spending more time together. She noticed that now whenever Alastor started dance or musical number, he always found an excuse pull Angel into the fray. Sure, he might have tugged Angel into the mix before, but now they danced close, they sang directly to one another, and they smiled— really smiled— when they looked into each other’s eyes. Sometimes she would walk in on them in the living room, just sitting quietly together; Alastor reading a book and Angel on his phone or flipping idly through a magazine. Angel might have his legs draped over Alastor’s lap or they might be seated completely apart if Alastor happened to be in a “not so touchy feely mood”, as Angel put it. 

Silent, but together. 

And everyone in the hotel knew the couple… had a sex life she couldn’t begin to fathom, what with all the sounds of Angel screaming, crying, and begging, followed by the spider looking energized and elated, while Alastor seemed overly chipper, the next day. She didn’t want to know. 

But it was clear they were falling for one another.

The entire hotel went silent when a knock sounded at the door. Once Al saw Angel was well, surely he would relax a little. This time apart, mixed with all its worry and limited information, had been driving him insane. She was sure of it. 

However, her stomach dropped when she opened the door and saw Angel, flushed and wincing in pain, being carried bridal style in the arms of a shockingly handsome and incredibly tall man. Oh. Oh no.

The growl she heard coming from behind her made her skin crawl.

—

“Ah ah ah,” Rupert purred in a teasing, playful fashion as the Radio Demon stalked towards them. “If you attack me, I might drop this delicate little parcel, and he is already in quite so much pain it would be a shame for you to cause more.”

Alastor’s steps slowed, his eyes shifted from dials into narrowed red slits. His smile, however, retained all of its sharp edges. “Angel, welcome home!” He said with biting cheeriness, watching as Rupert walked, confidently, into the hotel.

Angel sighed shakily. “The couch please, Rupert. No need ta go any further. Al will take me up ta the bedroom later,” he said, biting his lip as those strong arms set him down on the couch. He tried his best to feel comfortable in the sagging cushions. “Fuck, it’s bad here. I feel like… I’m being stabbed.”

“I did warn you. The pain will last for a while, my darling. You must be more careful, and do not push yourself like this again. I know healing in this… environment… is not ideal, but you do insist on staying here. Ah, but your deer is glaring daggers at me.”

“Al,” Angel started to say, but the Radio Demon was leaning over him and kissing him before he could finish the sentence. The kiss, though gentle and careful, felt cold as ice. Angry. So fucking angry. Angel saw it in ever twitch, coiled in every muscle and fiber of Alastor’s being. He could feel it tingling in the air. He shuttered. 

“Angel, my dear, where in hell were you,” Alastor said, almost sweetly. A clawed hand cupped Angel’s cheek, fingers stroking like the softest and most loving of threats. 

Angel paused. “Nowhere,” he said.

Rupert coughed, covering his mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh. He HAD said to use half-truths, after all. Alastor straightened, bringing his hands behind his back. If Rupert was concerned about the tentacles emerging from a vortex in the carpet to maim him, he did not show it. In fact, he seemed rather intrigued and commented on the variability of demon power sets and wondered aloud why a demon not particularly prone to passions in general had abilities so fit for pornographic scenarios. 

“Al… no,” Angel said. “Don’t. He’s my friend, and he helped me. Don’t.”

“Angel. I. Have. Limits.” Alastor hissed. The tentacles vanished in a snap, but the anger rolling off Alastor was somehow worse. “Get rid of him. Now.”

“Thanks Rupert,” Angel said shakily. “I’m good now.”

“Temper temper,” Rupert said. “You know where to reach me, my friend, though I hesitate to leave you when your partner is in such a volatile state.”

“I’ll leave if he oversteps,” Angel said simply, meeting Alastor’s eyes in a silent challenge. “And I’ll take ya up on that offer ta find me a place.”

He watched Rupert’s eyes widen and felt almost amused when the other man ‘noped’ right of the room in a flash of CONSPICUOUS Blue Fucking Light. 

Dick. Fuckin… dick. He could almost laugh at the pure dickishness. 

Alastor stared after Rupert’s exit and then, finally, snapped. “Angel! I have been honest. I have been open. I have been trying. I have been doing everything you have asked of me, have I not?” The volume of his words rose with each passing sentence. The smile was gone. Alastor was shouting. Alastor was not smiling.

Oh fuck. He broke the Radio Demon. 

“Y-yeah, Al,” Angel said softly, feeling himself shrink in the couch as the other man carefully took his hand and kissed it.

“Angel, my dear, I could accept that this job of yours was a secret before. I cannot accept that anymore, you understand? You were gone for four days. You were hurt. You are still hurt. Demons have recovered from being CHOPPED INTO PIECES within 24 hours, so forgive me if I refuse to allow you to keep secrets now that I know there is a risk of extreme injury and vagueness as to your location when said injury occurs!” The words tumbled out in a mess of transatlantic choppiness; fast and strained. It began clipped, but grew increasingly wordy and breathless, speed never slowing.

“Al, I’m sorry...” he started to say.

“Angel, no,” Alastor said, firmly. His tone demanded obedience. “No no no. You are going to tell me.”

A command?

Well. Angel wasn’t going to be ‘commanded’ to do anything.

“Ya gonna dump me?” Angel asked, yanking back his hand. “Then fine. Dump me. I’m not sayin shit. It ain’t ya business, Smiles. I told ya. It’s private.”

Alastor looked like he’d been slapped in the face.

He sighed, closed his eyes, and plastered on that mask of a smile. It morphed onto his features instantaneously, and Angel winced at the sight of his boyfriend changing before his eyes. Raw emotion replaced with a smile. 

“Angel, mon cher,” he purred, the grin firmly in place now. The playful, chipper demeanor flipped back on. “Why of course we’re not breaking up! Whatever gave you that idea?” A pillow materialized behind Angel’s back. A blanket wrapped itself around him. Soft, soothing jazz music played from the microphone on Alastor’s cane as he placed it leaning against the couch near Angel’s head, letting the music lull him. Another kiss, sweeter and warmer now. Long and slow. “Just a fight. It was just a fight.” 

“Al, I upset ya. I’m sorry. I just can’t—“

“Shhh shh. It’s fine. Let’s not talk about it since you cannot give me more than apologies.” There was a bitter edge to the words, stamped deep down beneath a layer of kisses and smiles. Al pressed their foreheads together, cupping Angel’s cheeks in both hands. “I missed you. I saw to Fat Nuggets, of course. He is quite a fan of his new wardrobe. You are still in pain, my dear, so let me take care of you. You just tell me any wants or needs. I’ll be right here.” 

Al took a seat in a red armchair nearby, looking like a king perched nobly on a throne. Angel could feel those sharp eyes watching him.

Somehow, the pain felt less unbearable with Alastor’s eyes on him.

“I really do like ya, Al. I don’t wanna break up, just ta be clear. You’re… I really, really like ya,” he said softly, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself.

Alastor blinked. His gaze softened. “I… really… really like you too, my Angel,” he said. 

The smile reached his eyes; those sad, angry eyes.

-

He knew something was…off … with Alastor, but he couldn’t put his finger on it; couldn’t explain his feelings in a way that others might understand. He mentioned his concerns to Charlie during one of her brief ‘visits’ to his bedroom; a visit where he laid trapped and tired in bed as his stupid body mended itself. 

Instead of validating his concerns, she told him that Al clearly cared about him, that the Radio Demon appeared to be working hard to compromise, and that perhaps he needed a bit more rest. Angel was, after all, overtired, in pain, and weak; these anxieties of his were all in his head. Maybe she was right…

But something felt wrong. 

He noticed the Radio Demon’s movements seemed more calculated than usual, his tone sweeter, and his words lighter. Yet a strange energy echoed between the lines with each word he spoke. If Angel listened hard enough, he could almost hear… the hatred. The malice. The rage. 

Alastor hated him.

He became certain of this a couple days after his return. He felt markedly better when he woke that morning, and said so to Alastor as the Radio Demon brought him something to eat. He watched the other man’s unchanging smiling mask as he spoke, feeling the lack of those brief shifts in expression like a weight around his heart. 

“Wonderful, my dear!” Alastor said, leaning down and pecking him lightly on the lips. “I am so very glad to hear it, but do not push yourself too much too soon.”

He tried to reach out, to deepen the kiss, but Alastor flitted away so quickly and easily, not lingering with any of his touches. “Al,” he whispered, but then stopped himself. Alastor turned back and looked at him, the grin seeming to glow in the shadow room along with those dangerous red eyes. Don’t chase the hornet. “N-nevermind.” He lowered his hand. 

Alastor left the room with a click of cloven boots. 

He winced slightly as he shifted in the bed. No more daggers, at least, just the lightest ache of soreness all over, as though he had run some great distance without any training or preparation the day before. That much he could deal with. He tried to slide out of the bed.

The pressure of the weight of his body standing on his legs, the muscles moving and joints bending with each step, set every nerve alight. It burned. He stifled a yelp of pain, bracing himself against the edge of the bed and biting one of his fists. He breathed, heavily, a few times, and then tried to take a step.

He couldn’t contain the scream that time. His body folded in on itself as he crumbled to the ground. Marjorie had told him not to try moving out of bed until there was no more ache or soreness; to take his time. She said it might take a week or so more.

He hated this, feeling weak and helpless. 

Fat Nuggets ran to him, squealing his distress with no effort to maintain the façade of quiet or subtlety. The little pig screamed, nuzzling him with eyes full of concern. “I-I’m fine, Nuggs. Why ya s-screamin, baby? I’m fine,” he whispered, his body trembling all over even as he spoke. The pig squealed louder.

He soon understood the reason for the little pig’s cries of distress when Alastor appeared in a plume of smoke and Nuggets ran between them, eyes wide with panic. 

Alastor leaned down and stroked the pig briefly. “Good boy,” he said. “I’m here now. I’ve got him.” He walked over to Angel, smile unchanging, and scooped him up into his arms. 

…The little traitor was calling for his Daddy because his stupid Papa hurt himself again. Angel had certainly noticed the adorable outfits, how Alastor made time to take the pig on multiple walks each day, and the fact that the Radio Demon always petted and praised the pig when he entered the room. He hadn’t really realized until just then that Nuggs had gotten attached and decided his Papa’s boyfriend was his other parent. He hadn’t done that with any of Angel’s other trysts, had never done it with Val. 

“Sorry,” he said softly, feeling the stiffness of Alastor’s back as the other man deposited him back onto the bed. He told himself Alastor could have used magic if he really hadn’t wanted to touch him. Really, there had been so many times when Alastor could have used magic if he didn’t want to touch him, right? He must want to… maybe?

Alastor said nothing. Angel caught the man’s hand as he turned to leave, felt static ripple through the air and drew back. Alastor’s back went ramrod straight when he touched his hand. It felt like they were back to square one; no touch that wasn’t on the Radio demon’s terms. No touch he did not initiate. 

“Please,” he wasn’t sure what he was pleading for. Alastor made a clicking sound and Far Nuggets trotted obediently out of the room, through the bathroom and into the walk in closet. When the fuck had Alastor even… how? 

The Radio Demon turned and looked at him, approaching slowly. “Angel, is there something specific you want from me?”

“I just… Al, somethin’s different,” he whispered. “Somethin’s… different.”

“You’re imagining things,” Alastor said simply, stroking his cheek with a clawed hand. The caress felt loving and threatening all at the same time.

“No, I’m not. Dammit, don’t fuckin gaslight me, Smiles,” he said, but instantly regretted it when the hand touching him drew back. He craved that touch; ached for it. He felt parched for Alastor’s touched. His affection. His warmth.

But that unchanging smile promised nothing. 

“You’re overwhelmed,” Alastor purred silkily, stepping back. 

“Al, do ya hate me?”

Silence. 

He knew it then. Not answering was an answer. He could feel it rolling off the Radio Demon in waves, that hatred. That anger. That resentment. His throat suddenly felt very dry. He wrapped his arms around himself. “Let’s break up then,” he said. “Why are we even… oomph!”

He didn’t get to finish that thought. Alastor was on top of him, kissing him hard, ripping off his pajamas. He arched as fingers found and pinched his nipples through the fluff on his chest, as razor teeth sank into the nape of his neck. “No,” Alastor hissed the word in his ear, mouth dripping with fresh blood. His hand closed around Angel’s throat, applying the lightest pressure. 

He touched Alastor’s face, choking back a sob at the sight of that smiling mask still in place even as the man pulled out his large rod and eased himself inside Angel’s willing body, thrusting deep. His asshole burned at the sudden intrusion at first, but soon struggled to accommodate the red girth stretching it to its limits. “Ahhh ahh, Al,” he moaned. Somehow the giant rod ramming into him didn’t hurt; not really. He felt like his body was melting. He wrapped his thighs around the Radio Demon’s waist with a little wince. “Somethin’s different…” he whimpered through a haze of lust and tears.

Alastor moved faster, fucked him deeper, and kissed him harder in response. The rod inside him felt so hot. So so hot. Every thrust brought a tingle of pain and pleasure. He shuddered as the Radio Demon’s hand wrapped around his own pink cock, stroking in time with each thrust, milking him to an early completion while the Radio Demon just kept fucking his tight little hole. 

“This is mine,” Alastor whispered in his ear, grabbing Angel’s pale bottom in his clawed hands, spreading the cheeks, and impaling him particularly deep. “You are mine.”

“You hate me now,” Angel said between soft little pants. The tongue on his throat made him see stars. “You’re fuckin’ pissed at me and ya hate me. F-fuck, Smiles. Please don’t stop. Please. Please forgive me, baby. Please. I’m begging ya ta look at me. Really look at me. Please.” 

Alastor did look at him then, and what he saw chilled him.

Hatred.

Rage.

Sadness.

And… love.

He kissed Alastor then, clung to him like a lifeline until the man eventually, after quite some time, finished inside him. Alastor filled him up, alright, with a hot thick load of cum. It oozed from his abused pink hole in globs as the Radio Demon eased out of him, spreading Angel’s thighs wide and watching the phenomena with detached interest.

Those blazing red eyes met his. He knew then that somehow, someway, he had been claimed. That Alastor wasn’t going anywhere. The bite mark on Angel’s neck throbbed pleasantly.

“We are going to work through this,” Alastor said firmly. “You and I, we are going to work through this. We CAN work through this. Do you want to work through this with me?”

“Y-yeah. I-I wanna work through this,” Angel said, feeling the lips brush his cheek as Alastor leaned down over him. 

“Then stop threatening to leave me or to break things off,” Alastor said, pinching one of the nipples lightly. Angel gasped, arched, and flushed.

“Stop hidin’ from me behind that mask,” Angel said in return, closing his eyes. The lips found the bloody wound on his neck again. A tongue against sensitive skin.

They both exhaled.

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Kudos and Reviewwwww 👁👄👁
> 
> Your comments are delicious.


	9. I.M.P. Fucking Imps

Chapter 9

Cherri didn’t get Angel’s whole new… deal. That much was clear. Over the past month, the two had seen each other infrequently as his new job and boyfriend kept him preoccupied. He missed her. Telling his bestest girl buddy that he appreciated the sentiment after she snuck cocaine and liquor into his bedroom, but that he was actually clean, certainly didn’t make all that much sense to the wild and bombastic bombshell. 

Still, even if she didn’t understand, Cherri adapted quickly. She didn’t ask about the injury or the job, dropping the subject the moment he made it clear he would not provide anything more than surface details. 

He reveled in the chance to curl up in bed with his old pal, paint their nails, and chat shit, especially with how bored and helpless he felt over the past couple days. He itched for activity, and being bedridden was a special kind of torture for Angel; a man who enjoyed a constant flurry of action and movement. Even Alastor’s dick couldn’t overcome his desperate need to move around, chatter, and DO things. The Radio Demon had picked him up off the ground more times than Angel would care to admit after his stubborn attempts to get out of bed and WALK failed spectacularly. Not to mention, he would not soon get over the embarrassment he felt every time he had to ask Alastor to carry him to the bathroom so that he could do his business. Helpless. Dependent. Trapped.

He hated it.

Cherri made him feel sane, at least. Her blunt, playful words, cocky attitude, and friendly presence were a familiar blanket he could wrap himself in. “So,” she said, arching her brow and flipping her whip of reddish pink hair. “The fucking Radio Demon? How have we not talked about this yet?”

“Listen, I know what your gonna say,” Angel started, lips twitching as he tried to suppress his grin. “But a gentleman don’t kiss and tell.”

“Bitch please,” she laughed, poking his fluffy chest. “Fuckin spill. What’s that creepy bastard got that’s keepin’ hell’s hottest commodity away from drugs and other dick?”

Angel mused for a while, pretending to consider the question as he brushed another layer of hot pink polish over his nails. “Hmm. Well, he’s fuckin hung. That helps. Rough in bed. Kinda freaky possessive. Ya know I’m fucked in the head and love that shit,” he paused and his eyes softened. “ I dunno. I… I also like how quick he is with his wit and sass. I like the way he talks, all fast and old timely. It’s nostalgic. He can be real gentle too— real tender. I like talking with him; bein around him. Fat Nuggets adores him. He makes me feel… loved…”

“Shit, Angie,” Cherri breathed, eye widening. “This isn’t just fuckin around, is it? Ya got it bad. Well fuck. Leave it to you to pick one of the most crazy and powerful overlords in hell to fall for. I better be your maid of fucking honor.”

Angel laughed and shoved her lightly. “It’s only been a month. It ain’t that serious,” he said, shaking his head and looking away. Somehow that felt like a lie. He wasn’t sure why. He continued, “And it’s been rocky lately if we’re bein honest. He ain’t a fan of me keeping secrets. He’s worried.”

Cherri paused. “Actually,” she said tentatively. “We both are. I mean, Ange, you always told me everything, and now you’re hurt real bad, and ya don’t wanna share any details. You won’t tell me anything about this job or your new friends. It’s… well, I love ya. Just know that. If ya ever wanna talk, I’m here. I love ya.”

He hugged her. “I promise, I’m alright. I’m happy and I’m doin… good, Cherri. Really good. Better than ever.”

She relaxed in his arms and hugged him back. “Boring. I’ll miss you bein a messy bitch. Now who will I commiserate with?”

“I’m still a messy bitch!”

They both laughed.

Her gaze strayed to his neck and she smirked. “Fuck, your deer daddy went out of his fucking way to mark his territory this morning, didn’t he?” She giggled. “He bit the hell out your fucking neck. Ya got puncture wounds.”

Angel covered his the bite awkwardly with a hand, flushing a bit. “Ha, yeah. Actually it’s from a couple days back.”

Cherri blinked and sat back. “That’s weird. Looks newer. Does it hurt?”

Angel shrugged.“Nah. Tingles a bit,” he said, studying his nails. “Ya think I oughta do a design?”

The subject shifted to nails rather quickly, but Angel couldn’t help but let his mind stray every once in a while to the thrilling, tickling sensation on his neck. It was as though he could feel Alastor lightly kissing along the nape; could feel his tongue deftly tracing patterns; could feel those lips blowing cool air against the skin.

He shivered.

But that was crazy, right?

Cherri briefly glimpsed a strange, grinning shape coiling itself around Angel’s shadow on the wall behind him, but she pretended not to see. 

-

It took a week and a half for him to finally get out of bed and walk around without pain, and he reveled in the small victory, immediately endeavoring to over exert himself by sprinting through the hotel. He had to admit, he was lucky Alastor caught him when the stairs proved too much. The Radio Demon always seemed one step ahead of him, hovering close by and appearing whenever he was needed. Angel sometimes wondered how the other man always knew where he was and what he was doing at any given time, but shrugged it off. The hotel wasn’t THAT big and Angel was loud as fuck. 

At the two week mark, he finally felt like his old self again. He reached out to the girls and convinced them he was ready to resume working. The rush of excitement he experienced when they cheerily exclaimed they thought he could start taking on jobs again exploded like fireworks in his heart. Work. He could finally go back to work. 

Alastor did not argue when Angel told him that he would begin disappearing for jobs every now and again. The Radio Demon simply smiled, made a colorful little quip, and they breezed past it. 

However, Angel knew better than to push his luck with the Radio Demon. Whenever he got a job, he was not going to give Alastor the chance to stop him beforehand. 

The text came at midnight:

Name: Marcus White  
Age: 27  
Destination: Hell – Regular   
Sins: Alcoholic. Domestic Violence. Physical, sexual, and emotional abuse.  
Time of Death: Soon  
Cause of Death: Anomaly Detected. Source unknown.  
Location: (Click Link)

Angel blinked in surprise. A regular denizen of hell? He hadn’t dealt with something like that before. He’d dealt with the most horrific cases of human depravity, not the regular cases of horrible human depravity. He considered rejecting the case. He preferred the Underworld-bound people who truly needed him personally, but then he reconsidered. This might be interesting. He had never seen a cause or time of death like this and he was desperate to go on another job. 

He group-messaged the girls, doing his best to hide the light of his phone. Aurelia would take him there, she said. Could he meet her outside the hotel in ten minutes?

Perfect.

Now to extricate himself from his current situation. He shifted in the bed silently, trying his best not to shock awake the man lying beside him. He and Alastor spent more nights together than apart lately, even if the Radio Demon was not-so-secretly pissed with him. His neck tingled slightly, a reminder of just how violently passionate Al could be.

Alastor grumbled in his sleep. The arm encircling Angel’s waist clamped around him even tighter. Angel trembled as a large bulge, barely contained under the man’s thin silk pajama bottoms, pressed against his round cheeks. Fuck. One wrong move and he could kiss this latest job goodbye. If Al started to sleepily nibble his neck or pinch his tits, he just knew he’d melt like butter and spread his ass for that fat cock. 

He made eye contact with Fat Nuggets in his tiny bed across the room. An idea struck him. The little pig had a soft red blanket draped over him which Angel was certain had not come from himself. He tried not to let the fluttering in his heart distract him from his new mission. He mouthed the word “walk” to Fat Nuggets, watching the little pig perk up immediately before he started his excited squealing and snuffling. 

Those red eyes snapped open instantly.

“I think he needs ta potty,” Angel said with a feigned yawn, slowly sitting up and making a show of reaching blindly through the dark for the lamp. “I can… I can take him out in the back of the hotel and potty him real quick.” Another yawn.

As he expected, Alastor gently pushed him back down into the mattress and kissed his cheek. “No no. Go back to sleep, mon cher. I will see to the little one.” 

He watched through half-lidded eyes as Alastor dressed Nuggets in a warm little red sweater to keep him safe from the night chill and slipped him into his tiny harness, attaching the lead with practiced ease despite the pig’s excited squirming. He had used their baby to trick his boyfriend into stepping out the back door of the hotel so he could sneak out the front. Oh hell, this was probably a special kind of evil. 

He scrawled out a quick note for Al and left it on the man’s pillow: 

‘Got a work thing. Be back soon. 

XOXO Angel’

After tossing on a pair of white pants and a pale pink sweater, he made his way out of the room, down the hall, and through the front door. He moved quickly and quietly, hoping he got the timing right to pull off this last minute and not particularly well thought out bit of fuckery. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted it. Alastor was gonna be fuckin pissed. He should have talked to him. This was not a good look.

But Aurelia would be there soon and doubling back would only waste time. He trotted out to the road, hugging all four arms around himself against the chilly night air. He bounced from one foot to another, feeling an anxious sort of thrill knowing he was finally, FINALLY, going to WORK again. He had never realized how much he yearned for a purpose-driven life before reaping. This particular job wasn’t ideal, sure, but the hell-bound soul wouldn’t remember him— after all, denizens of hell weren’t meant to know anything about the Underworld— and it would be the beginning of getting back into the swing of things.

He ran a finger over the white scar on his neck. That strange tingling sensation again. 

Where was Aurelia? Alastor might be back in the bedroom by now…

When he saw her, he couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief. She drove up in a shiny yellow sports car, glowing with that golden aura he had seen around Rupert. Bitch had to rock up in style.

Angel grinned. “Fuck, I missed ya, babes,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat. He thought he felt a hand brush the small of his back, the way Alastor did whenever he pulled out his chair or opened a door for him, but when he looked around there was no one in sight. “But fuck, if I’d known this baby existed I woulda missed her more. All ya bitches have great rides?”

“Indeed we do,” Aurelia said, looking at herself in the rear view mirror and adding a bobby pin to her intricately crafted bun. “And you are next, my dear. I think of you every time I see something flashy and pink.”

“I’d say ‘fuck you, I ain’t a stereotype’, but ya know me too well. I fuckin love pink,” he laughed, leaning back in the seat. “Let’s get goin, babes. I might be givin my fella the slip, if ya catch my drift.”

“Communication, my dear, is the cornerstone of love,” she purred. “But I do find your insolence towards your stuffy beau oh so thrilling.”

“You and Rupert both. Fuckin livin fa the drama, I swear ta Hades,” he laughed. “Ain’t got none of ya own?”

“More farcical, I say. Our days of high drama have long passed. We enjoy play and love and the ridiculous now. If we crave drama, we conspire to matchmake, insert ourselves into other people’s business, or go on a great adventure.” She grinned as she spoke , revving the engine and beginning to drive.

“At least ya know yourselves.” He sat back, watching as, eventually, the world warped around them in a flash of blue. 

The living world seemed so starkly different from the space-like magnificence of the Underworld or the red terror of Hell. It was more muted and more colorful all at the same time. More variety of color with less vibrancy. As they pulled into a parking lot and slipped out of the car, he had a strange sense of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Something felt off tonight. He had gone with his human form for this mission. The target was located in a nearby nightclub. 

“I got this, babes. Ya can just wait here,” he said, walking towards the destination with measured anxious steps. He knew Aurelia disliked dealing with regular hellbound souls. Anything less than the worse cases rubbed her the wrong way, even these fairly cut and dry cases. You never could be sure what a soul like this would say to get in your head. 

It was a writhing mass of bodies inside the nightclub. Lights flashed around him. Music pulsed. He felt a hand smack his ass and then heard a subsequent yelp from its owner. Weird. Maybe the man’s dancing partner saw the assault on Angel’s ass and took immediate revenge. Who knows. 

Anomaly detected.

He understood what that meant the second he saw them. Three imps rampaging through the club in a messy panic, a short couple holding hands and a tall fella with large horns, waving around guns and screaming at each other. “The fuck—!”

Why were three imps running around in the living world, without humans disguises, killing people? Why? WHY?! What the fuck were they doing?

He didn’t have time to dwell on this as it appeared that said imps were being chased by an amorphous blob of amphibious design and he seriously didn’t have the mental capacity to understand what the fuck was happening at that moment, only that people were screaming and rushing around him. The building groaned and shook. 

He felt an arm around him then, not the faintest brush of touch but the solid jerk of strong arms pulling him aside just as a section of the ceiling fell where he had been standing. He turned his head and almost choked. “Al, what the fuck—“

But he didn’t have time to argue with the Radio Demon at that moment. More pieces of the building were caving inwards and the imps had begun shooting at the blob, bullets flying everywhere. Well, fuck this shit. He clung to Alastor who transported them out of the building and into an alleyway. 

Standing there in his human form, looking up at his seething lover who was, at that moment, a full foot taller than him, felt rather intimidating. “Angel, my dear,” Alastor purred, smiling broadly down at him. The smile twitched with thinly veiled frustration and confusion. “Why are we in the living world and why are you human?”

“So… the thing is…” he started to say, cheeks flushed and heart pounding in his chest. Was he guilty, angry, or horny? He couldn’t decide. “Smiles, how the fuck are YOU here?”

Alastor glared down at him, smile unwavering. “I followed you,” he said curtly.

“What about trust?” Angel snapped, trying to squirm from the arms wrapped around him, but Alastor wouldn’t budge. The Radio Demon merely arched his brows and glanced at the blazing nightclub and cackling horned imp dancing amongst the flames. Okay. Fair point. “It ain’t usually like this, Al. Today was… an anomaly. Some fuckin imps causin’ chaos. Real weird shit.” Another pause. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it. Aurelia had the target. He winced and texted her. ‘Hate ta ask, but can ya take him ta hell fa me? I’ve got a situation. Will call soon.’

Okay. Fuck. Think think think. So Alastor had followed him, somehow, on his job. He tried not to start hyperventilating. How was he supposed to deal with this? Fuck. And Alastor wasn’t in any kind of inconspicuous human form or nothin’. Well, maybe people would think he was dressed up for some kinda cosplay convention or something. But he was SO conspicuous. 

Those red eyes studied him. Alastor wordlessly shifted, using his own enviable power to change himself into a well-dressed human man with brown hair and playful eyes. Their heights now nearly matched, though Angel suspected Alastor made himself an inch taller than Angel just out of spite. Okay. One problem down. 

Wait. So this was how Al looked as a human? Gorgeous. Of course he was Angel’s type. Of fucking course. 

“Angel…” The name spoken in a low, coaxing tone coupled with a hand stroking circles into his back reassuringly. 

“I’ll tell ya everythin’, Al,” he sighed. “Fuck, I just don’t know where ta start. This shit tonight ain’t my usual MO. I mostly… ya know what, fuck it. I’ll show ya. Should get anotha’ job offer comin in soon. Ya wanna… just get a coffee or somethin till then? I’ll show ya everythin, so please don’t be mad. Don’t be scared fa me anymore. I’ll show ya. I’ll tell ya.”

He felt Alastor relax, those arms pulling him closer as the Radio Demon hugged him. Relief. He could sense it coming off Alastor in waves, every muscle losing that tightness; all that was rigid and straight finally bending just slightly. 

“Very well, my dear,” Alastor said after some time, hooking their arms as his eyes scanned a world much changed. “A cup of coffee sounds wonderful.” 

He would take the Radio Demon out reaping. 

Maybe that wasn’t as insane as it sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Review 👁👄👁
> 
> I’m literally giddy every time I see your wonderful comments! They are my sustenance.


	10. Little Blue Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes references to child abuse and child murder. Beware.

Chapter 10

Angel watched his lover bitterly sip from the mug in front of him, looking sorely disappointed all the while. It seemed even in the living world, nothing but the old and familiar would satisfy Alastor. Angel wished he could spirit them off to New Orleans, Louisiana. Perhaps then the smile might meet the Radio Demon’s eyes. Alastor had very specific coffee preferences. He preferred a New Orleans style chicory-blended coffee made with hot milk. He called it a ‘café au lait’. 

He settled for a latte.

Angel, on the other hand, found himself greatly enjoying the sweet concoction of sugar and cream the kitchen had thrown together for him. It tingled in his mouth; warmed his body all the way down his throat and into his stomach. They sat across from each other in the booth of a small 24 hour diner, chatting in quiet voices about the old days and how things were way back when. If he reached across the table, he could touch one of Alastor’s hands; hands free of yellowed claws and stuffy red gloves. But he did not reach out just yet. No. Not yet. 

You see, they were having a fight. 

This fight had no winners or losers. They both knew, even as they argued between reminisces, that neither of them would concede to being the villain of their piece. They also both knew that, in the end, whatever they might say to each other, however this fight might end, the result would be the same; they would work through it together. 

Somehow that fact made speaking easier; made the words flow with the grace and rapidity of a large, winding river, ever-moving towards the sea. “I’m allowed to have pieces of my life outside of you,” Angel said softly, watching each of the man’s subtle little movements. Angel liked the way Alastor smiled, the way he cocked his head slightly whenever Angel spoke, and the way he always managed to have a response ready on his lips, sometimes mixed with a horrible Dad joke that would catch Angel off guard and make him laugh. If they had met long ago when they were both alive would Alastor have kissed him or killed him?

“I disagree,” he said, setting down the cup of coffee. “Angel, my dear, let me give you a hypothetical scenario. Let’s say I were to suddenly develop a particularly close friendship with a group of individuals to whom I refused to introduce you. In fact, I gave you very little information about them altogether. Our work together was a secret, you see, and our friendship was SPECIAL. Then let’s say I gushed over the particular charm and power of another man, who to you appeared nothing more than a smooth-talking charlatan. But ah, he was so charming and good-looking, and every time you came into contact with him he made some patronizing or flirtatious comment which I treated as a jest despite your obvious discomfort. Let’s say this charming fellow also never failed to mention he could find me a place should I ever decide to leave. Now imagine I consistently brushed off all your concerns, rebuffed all your questions, snuck around behind your back, and even got myself horribly injured to the point I was bedridden for nearly two weeks AFTER disappearing for four days. I told you it was none of your business. Everything was fine. Trust me. Trust me. You can’t know how I got hurt, of course. You can’t know any details, but trust me. Trust me. It’s fine. I’m happy. So happy. I won’t open up to my friends or loved ones, I’ve become secretive and undergone a major shift in my personality, but just trust me. Now, my dear, tell me what you would think in that scenario.”

Angel opened and shut his mouth a few times. His hands trembled and his heart hammered in his chest. Just the thought… of all of that… gave him such an overwhelming wave of stress and anxiety. Suddenly his throat felt very dry. “I would think… y-ya were mixed up in somethin bad… l-like some kinda hell cult or somethin,” he said after a few moments. 

“Exactly, my effeminate fellow! Now you’re on the trolley!” Alastor sat back in the booth. “So can you now understand why I—“

“Did some crazy eldritch shit when ya bit me ta know exactly where the fuck I am and what the fuck I’m doin at any given moment? No!” Angel tossed the napkin he had been nervously twisting in his hands onto the table. “That’s so fucked up, Al!”

And so the circle completed itself. They were back to square one. 

Still, Angel reached across the table and took the man’s hand in his own, smiling faintly at the gentle squeezing pressure he received as Alastor rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand. They were at an impasse it seemed, but really, it didn’t matter who was technically “right”. They could go round and round in circles forever. 

“I’m sorry,” Alastor grumbled. “For invading your privacy and for overstepping so much and so often. I love you, Angel.”

“I’m sorry fa actin like ya feelins didn’t matter and behavin like such a suspicious idiot,” Angel said. “I love ya too.”

And those words, once finally spoken, felt like the greatest exhale.

They continued chattering for some time more before the underphone buzzed. Angel glanced at the message, softened, and slid it towards Alastor who looked at the screen with furrowed brows. “Time ta go ta work, babe. Just stand back and watch me, alright? Don’t say nothin.”

Alastor nodded mutely, paid their tab with what Angel could only assume was eldritch magic money, and allowed Angel to quietly lead him from the diner by the arm. With a little concentration, and perhaps more than an ounce of Alastor’s help, Angel made them both invisible to human eyes. They moved silently through the streets, and Angel thanked Hades for whatever all knowing force kept tabs on his current location and what jobs he could reasonably take at any given moment. The house was small, run down. It seemed… sad. Yes, very sad indeed.

As they stepped inside, he noticed an adult slumped on the couch, snoring loudly with a beer bottle still clutched in their hand. He saw the filthy state of the place, the bottles littered everywhere, the takeout boxes, the piles of trash, and the thick putrid scent of cigarette smoke, death, and liquor lingering on every surface. There were splotches of blood on the ground, a shattered bottle covered in it.

Alastor placed a hand on his waist, pulling him a little closer as Angel guided them through the stuffy hallway and into a small bathroom. The second Alastor saw the small bludgeoned body, the Radio Demon went very still. “Hey baby,” Angel said softly. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared.” 

The small blue being sat up dazedly from her place in the broken body, wide confused eyes gazing up at the two men with complete lack of comprehension. She was, after all, no more than 3 years old. In the reaping biz they called this a TYTU: Too Young To Understand. She trembled and whimpered, scooting away from Angel. 

He crouched down, smiling gently. “My name is Angel,” he said softly, keeping his voice light and easy. “What’s your name, Sugah?” 

“Girl,” she said in the littlest voice he’d ever heard. The name made him his chest ache. She looked at Alastor nervously, looked past him at the door. She began trembling again. “Ow.” 

“Ow? Will ya show me where the ow is?” He smiled gently as she moved into the safety of his arms, pointing to a spot on her head where he knew… well, he would not look at the body when the soul was right in front of him. “Oh ow. Ya know, I have a magic trick ta make the ‘ow’ go away. He lifted up a hand, forming a small ball of pale blue light that danced in his palm. He chanted softly:

_‘Little light oh so blue,  
Some magic I must ask of you.  
Take away the cuts and scrapes;  
The bumps and bruises in all shapes.  
Oh take away what makes us blue,  
And take away the owies too.’_

The light shifted into a butterfly, fluttered onto the girls nose, and vanished in a flurry of sparkle and shimmer. She giggled and smiled up at Angel, letting him scoop up her tiny body in his arms. He turned to look at Alastor and his eyes widened when he realized the man was not behind him any longer. 

Then he heard screaming. 

Terrified, human screaming. He held the child close to him and hurried out of the house, jogging several hundred yards away until the strangled shrieks were distant enough that he might sing over them. His heart pounded in his chest. Some other reaper would need to deal with this fucking anomaly.

Alastor appeared beside him after a time, humming and dabbing some blood off his cheek with a red handkerchief. Thankfully the little girl was too young to understand what had just happened, but Angel did and the fact that he was… unreasonably turned on by it made him want to scream. 

“Why hello, my dear,” Alastor said cheerily, all smiles. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Why, I have never seen a more charming little miss in my life! In my afterlife! You need never fear, never worry, never even hurry. We are here and we shall take excellent care of you!” He took her little hand and shook it lightly. She giggled. Angel realized then that Alastor’s voice must sound so funny and fast to her. He smiled. 

“Fa the time bein’. We’re takin her ta the otha’ side, hun,” he said, holding the child on his hip with one arm and texting with the other. He would have one of the girls meet them at the park. He knew better than to try hopping to the Underworld without help again. “I’m sure she’s got someone waitin fa her.”

Alastor took the little girl from him wordlessly, chattering and making jokes until they reached a nearby park. He set her down and watched with calm, smiling eyes as she began to play. “No,” he said simply.

Angel squeezed the Radio Demon’s hand. “Al, relax,” he said with a soft laugh, remembering how protective he had felt with of first charge. “You’ll see. And also, fa fuck’s sake, we don’t kill; even the bastards who deserve it. We take the dead where they’re meant ta go. Ya just made work fa anotha’ Reaper.” 

“Reaper?” Alastor repeated the word. His shadows sprang up to catch the little ghost girl as she tripped and tottered. Her white dressed fluttered around her. Long messy hair, unkempt or cared for, falling in her delicate face. 

“Yeah, Al,” he said, stroking the Radio Demon’s arm. “Aurelia will be here soon.”

Aurelia said nothing when she approached the pair, but her eyes danced with thinly veiled amusement. Her lips twitched. They sat on a bench, Angel leaning against Alastor’s shoulder and the child settled in Alastor’s lap, fast asleep against his chest. 

“Well well well, it seems we had a stowaway,” she said, voice the silkiest purr. “You know, Angel. A Demon overlord… well, this is highly unorthodox, but I suppose it could not be helped. And now, so much more trouble than it’s worth if we DON’T explain ourselves, hmm? Come along, my darlings. Let us adieu to the underworld.”

“This is the one that pill, Rupert, is married to,” Alastor said decisively. Angel lightly smacked his arm and stood. 

“Don’t start fights. Let’s go,” he said, stretching with a yawn.

Alastor held Angel and the little girl close as they stepped through the portal. Angel couldn’t help but watch Alastor’s face as the vortex of space and time swirled around them; watch his eyes widen and strained smile slacken. The soul in his arms shifted. Two antenna unfurled from her head, her eyes became rounder and larger, a pair of dazzling blue wings sprouted from her back and another set of arms at her side. A little blue butterfly.

When the Radio Demon finally laid eyes on the Underworld, he went very still and very rigid. Now back in their demon forms, Angel flushed as the clawed hand on his hip tightened its hold; the only sign of movement in his otherwise frozen boyfriend. 

“Smiles, ya alright?” He asked softly. “Ya want me ta take the kid while ya process?” He took the little girl wordlessly, eyes softening when she began to blink awake and marvel at their surroundings. Her head turned this way and that. 

“Angel, is this—“

“Welcome ta the underworld, Daddy. Ain’t heaven. Ain’t hell. Somethin’ in between,” he said with a grin. 

More silence. 

“Redemption. You got it.” Alastor said finally, eyes sweeping over every magnificent nook and cranny.

“Nah, I just… well, got a job,” Angel said, shrugging. “One with great benefits, sure.”

“Angel, this IS redemption. Don’t you see? This IS paradise. Paradise isn’t perfection or a sinless pure existence. It’s this. THIS—“ Alastor laughed and it sounded strangled. He laughed and touched the flowers on the trees, marveling when they did not decay in his hand. He laughed and listened to the music on the wind, old and timeless. 

Angel blinked and looked at Aurelia. She simply smiled at him.

Was this redemption? 

In a way, was this redemption? 

“Ya like it, Al? Ya understand now?” He said softly, watching the girl flap her wings and reach for the shimmering pink petals floating around them. “Come on, we gotta get this little one home.”

The child’s aunt gladly took her. Spinning and cooing over her with adoration that warmed Angel’s heart, but he noticed Alastor had gone rigid again. “Maybe the little ones ain’t fa you, huh?” He whispered. “Ya woulda kept her.”

“Yes,” Alastor said simply. “Do you want children, Angel?”

They’d never discussed this before. It didn’t seem like much of a possibility in hell, but here? Who knows. Angel answered truthfully: “Yeah. I do.”

“Mmm,” Alastor studied the happy pair of souls as they walked away, waving back at the little one as she waved goodbye over her aunt’s shoulder. “I think… I do as well.”

He would need to introduce Alastor to something more… violent. His heart ached to see the Radio Demon, despite his grinning mask, looking so melancholy. What a fucking softie, this bastard. Angel kissed his cheek. “Come on, Smiles,” he said, squeezing the other man’s hand. “I have some more stuff ta show ya.” He made eye contact with Aurelia who grinned and sang the words with him:

_‘Welcome to the Hive.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Review if ya like it! 👁👄👁
> 
> I fed ya’ll twice in one day cause, repeat after me, I have no fuckin self control and can’t stop myself.


	11. Sweet Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Suggestions of a non-con assault towards a side character which, in fact, turns out to be a false version of the story. 
> 
> I know it ain’t the biggest chapter, but please please please enjoy!

Chapter 11

They knew something was wrong when Rupert didn’t respond to Aurelia’s texts or calls. They knew something was wrong when they found the hive silent, but for watchful eyes gazing at them from the shadows, whispering songs Angel did not know. They knew something was wrong when they saw the marble halls coated in softly glowing pink petals that remained unscathed when trampled by their hurrying feet.

A small voice chanted from somewhere in the hive a whisper of a song. 

A song he did not know:

“ _Little maiden Kore,  
Tripping through the fields,  
Wildflowers springing,  
All up at her heels. _

_Her hair, black as a raven’s wing,  
blazing crimson in the spring.   
Her skin, sun-kissed brown and gold.  
Eyes like saplings, green yet bold. _

_Little maiden Kore,  
Tripping through the fields,  
A spider has seen you,  
Carrying your yields. _

_His chariot soon chasing,  
Your poor heart must be racing,  
And when he falls upon you,  
Us watching nymphs, we mourn too. _

_Little maiden Kore,  
Quiet and alone,  
Darkness surrounding,  
You’re so far from home. _

_Dare you bite the hand that feeds,  
Kisses like pomegranate seeds?  
His sweet, dark, and longing reprieves,  
A change from the bright days you leave. _

_Little maiden Kore,  
We’re wondering why,  
The day that he came,  
you were watching the sky. _

_It’s a sneaking suspicion,  
A different rendition;  
That a story of capture,  
Belies a woman’s rapture. _

_Little Maiden Kore,  
We see your return,  
With black gown and thorn crown;  
Now what did you learn? _

_We hear that you dance in the underworld. why?  
And why did you gaze at the blue, blue sky? _

_Little maiden Kore,  
We see you depart,  
into his open arms.  
Now when did that start? _

_You’re laughing.  
You’re dancing.  
You’re singing.  
You’re twirling;  
And the way you make him smile,  
Sets our minds a-whirling. _

_But soft! We see you smiling,  
With hair as black as a raven’s wing.  
But soft! We see you rivaling,  
The Gods who continue pitying. _

_Little maiden Kore,  
Turns everything to spring.  
Calls darkness her king. _”

Angel knew something was wrong when Aurelia’s eyes went saucer-wide, when she stopped and stared at the petals, and when she barely— just barely— managed to hiss the word ‘RUN’. 

He ran alongside her, tugging a baffled Alastor by the hand as they zipped through the blue, blue halls. He looked for the glow of gold that usually shined from Rupert’s office, looked for that warmth in all the blue, but instead he saw a light in a shade he had never seen in the Underworld. A rare color in hell. One of the most abundant colors in the living world.

Green.

A green, green glow. 

Aurelia’s breath hitched. Her steps slowed to an amble as they approached the parted door and she pushed it, quietly, open.

The woman was tall, as tall as Rupert; and soft. Large soft breasts, soft lovely features, a soft curve of the waist, and soft rounded hips. Her eyes seemed lined in kohl that smudged like black tears down her cheeks. She sat behind Rupert’s desk and in his chair, smiling a strange, serene sort of smile. Raven hair tumbled down her back in a waterfall of shadows, but her skin seemed almost luminous in its sun-kissed glow. She was a confusion of warmth and cool; a crazed combination of dark and light. From her temples grew two black antlers, coated in moss, vines, blossoming pink flowers. She wore a long white Grecian gown that clung to her supple form. It looked as though it had been spun from cobwebs— spider silk. Rupert sat across from her, practically twiddling his thumbs— a guest in his own office. 

He glanced up at them as they entered his office, eyes wide. Panicked.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Why, hello, Angel. Alastor. Do have a seat, my Saplings. It is time we spoke,” she said in a voice that teetered between manic hysteria, innocent sweetness, and purring sensuality. Her lively green eyes fell on them, the black pupils far too small. Wild, unhinged eyes. Wild as spring in bloom. Mad. She looked utterly mad. “Aurelia. Rupert. You are dismissed.”

He felt Alastor perk up instantly. That damn grin of his expanded with little regard for the apparent severity of the situation. He looked at this stranger with fascination and friendly interest. Of fucking course he would feel an immediate kinship for another insane deer. Why the fuck not? 

Angel took a seat. His hands trembled as he stared up at this woman, who seemed to engulf the room in her presence. So tall. So intimidating. The way she sat, tall and unbending, only increased her miraculous height. She offered her hand magnanimously to Alastor, who bowed over it and kissed one of her many black rings in a show of gallantry that Angel did not— could not— understand. Had Alastor picked up on something? He would kill to have Rupert and Aurelia’s Soul-bond mind-link bullshit right about now, even though he wanted to punch his boyfriend in the dick for adapting so quickly to the situation while he remained rattled. 

Alastor settled beside him, grin firmly planted on his features. He took Angel’s hand and squeezed. 

Confident.

How could he be so confident?

The woman studied them, smile white and pretty, though her eyes seemed to laugh and glare all at the same time. She folded her hands on the desk, a picture of authoritarian docility, and began:

“ _Isn’t that sweet?  
A deer and a spider.  
You know, my husband is a spider.   
So many hands... _”

She leaned forward as she spoke, a silky purr of a conspiratorial whisper, her palms extending outwards towards them when she said the word ‘hands’. A mad glint glowed in her eyes as she giggled. She looked thoughtful for a second, before chanting, in a singsong voice that started sweet and ended… not so sweet:

“ _The itsy bitsy spider,  
Caught me in his web.  
I suppose I could run,  
But I like the SMELL OF DEAD!_”

She stood as she sang the last line, voice cracking slightly with mirth and irony all mixed up in some strange melancholy scream. Her full height made Angel sink down into the seat. Her commanding, cackling presence overwhelmed him. She leaned down and continued her playful little song.

“ _Oh, silly me,  
perhaps I should explain.  
Quite a sight to see,  
But I’m sure you’ve heard my name:  
Per-seph-on-e _”

Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

Could they run. Why did Al look so fucking thrilled? This was not a picture show! They were not watching a play in a fucking theater! 

Would he laugh in the face of Lilith, Angel wondered. This was bigger than Lilith. This was… a goddess.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, eyes wide.”I-I didn’t mean. Please, I love it here. I don’t want to lose… I just thought—“

“ _Oh?  
You thought you were gonna get away with this, my dears?  
You didn’t think anyone was watching,  
Well I’m here.  
I’m here. _

_You’ve been caught.  
You’ve been convicted.  
But you might get acquitted,   
If you beg,  
If you plead,  
To your queen. _”

Angel had the pleas ready on his tongue, but Alastor’s grip held him firm. From the corner of his eye, he caught the briefest twitch of a plush red ear left to right, like the shaking of a head. Don’t beg? Don’t plea? Just wait.

He gulped and watched her laughing eyes.

“ _Tell me have you heard the stories,  
of my kindness?  
Tell me have you heard the stories,  
of my charity?  
My husband says I’m sweet.  
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha_”

The mad, broken laughter caught him off guard. He felt his fur stand on end, his skin crawling. Alastor’s hand squeezed his own, smile unwavering. 

“Yes,” Alastor purred. “And we are quite sorry for the inconvenience, madam. Perhaps you might make an exception?”

Her smile widened. Teeth seeming… suddenly very sharp.

“ _You broke the rules.  
Our perfect little rules,   
To keep the underworld safe from demons,  
… and fools. _

_So why?  
Why will I let you survive?  
Why will I let you thrive,  
Here in the hive? _”

Her hands slammed on the table. 

Angel jumped.

“ _You’re proof .  
You’re proof that I was right.  
What a delight. _”

Wild green eyes drifted to Angel. Her smile softened briefly. She reached out and stroked his face, almost tenderly. Almost motherly.

Affection. 

He saw it there, at that moment. Perhaps all this time with Alastor had softened him to madness, or perhaps his time spent reaping broken souls had made him more empathetic— better able to read people. Genuine, real affection.

He relaxed then. He felt himself smile back at her. 

“ _Angel your goodness is so sweet,  
and it will be a treat,  
to rub it in my husband’s face,  
When the two of you do meet. _

_A demon finding sweet redemption.  
We thought Aurelia was the exemption,  
but now we know,  
just how far this can go!  
Hahahaha! _”

And so she laughed and settled back in the chair, the song hanging heavy in the air around them as she cocked her head to the side and studied the two men. “Angel, I have been watching you. You are good. Truly good. This one,” she pointed at Alastor with a long, manicured nail. It was coated in black polish and pointed to a sharpened tip. “Not so much, but I like him, and he has potential with you. I can use him. He will be very good throwing evil into hellfire, at torturing those who deserve it most. Now, the two of you are going to bring me the princess of hell. Understood? I think this may be the start of a beautiful partnership between us, don’t you think?” 

“I thought… ya didn’t want demons t’ know… about…” Angel could barely speak in front of this woman despite his small, newfound comfort. The praise felt real… and it felt like the praise his mother gave him. The words became dry and jumbled in his throat. The corners of his eyes stung.

“My husband doesn’t, but I see before me a Demon that does not belong in hell. I see a second chance. Perhaps I AM merciful,” she said, leaning back and giggling to herself. “Or perhaps I just rejoice in being right. You are one of my little reapers, Angel. I want more. More regular subjects too, of course. A little flavor to brighten the darkness…” Her eyes strayed to Alastor, shoulders relaxing slightly. “A being of light might go mad when all is blue and darkness.” Her words carried a sadness to them, a weariness. “So very mad… it’s nice… to see red. Roses. Blood. Apples. Ah, the memories it brings.”

“Ha! Never fear, madam!” Alastor boomed, leaping up from his seat and dancing around the desk to stand beside the… goddess. His cane appeared in one of his hands and he spun it around before playing a jaunty little tune from the microphone head. “Soon you shall be surrounded by a veritable ‘rainbow’ color. An array of types and temperaments! An assortment of freaks driven to redemption! I know boredom all too well, and you, my lady, are suffering from it greatly! Why, you require entertainment! Immediately! On the double!”

Okay, so all deer were fucking nuts.

Still, he couldn’t say he disliked this goddess… even if she scared and confused the shit out of him. There was something… oddly tender in her eyes. Something safe despite the wildness. Warm as springtime. 

“You are very amusing,” she said, tapping the microphone. “Angel, bring me Charlie Magne by tomorrow and you shall see your mother and sister very soon. I shall bring them to you. A little bit of incentive, my sapling. I think, despite your naughty behavior in bringing your mate into my domain, you deserve to see your family. Family is… so important. One should not need to choose between family and their beloved.” Her words trailed off. Her eyes seemed far away. 

WHAT?! His mother and sister. He would get… to see Molly and Ma? He would get… the tears began falling unbidden. He found himself covering his mouth, laughing and sobbing. Shaking.

She stood again, patting Alastor lightly on the head and squeezing Angel’s shoulder gently as she neared him; a friendly comforting squeeze. Her laughter bubbled forth as Rupert and Aurelia peeked from around the parted door into the room— that strange manic cackle— and she disappeared in a swirl of shimmering petals and green smoke.

Alastor looked at all of them, grinning and bouncing a bit in place. He hurried to Angel, kissing and wiping away his tears with a handkerchief. “Well! I think that went swimmingly! What a charming creature!” 

Aurelia and Rupert glanced at each other, shared a conspiratorial grin, and both let out a sigh of relief at the same time. Angel watched them move together as they entered the office, a dance of synchronized steps that he only noticed when he looked closely. “Oh, she does like you, Angel. I had thought she would,” Rupert said, offering Aurelia his chair rather than reclaiming it for himself. He pulled it out, watched her take a seat, and leaned down to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “I was not so certain about your dear deer.” Alastor bristled slightly, but Rupert continued, extending a hand for Alastor to shake: “But I am happy to have been proven quite wrong! Utterly and completely wrong! Glorious! This could not be better!”

Alastor paused and then shook it, arching a brow. He looked between the grinning couple and seemed to settle down, smile widening. 

“And now she will help us,” Aurelia said, drumming her fingernails against the table with an eager little smile. Her hands, usually so prim and exacting, practically shook with excitement. “Redemption, my dears. A real chance at redemption for those who deserve it.”

Aurelia and Rupert shared another smile.

Angel realized then that somehow, some way, he had become a pawn in their little scheme; a player in a game completely above his head. Alastor realized it too, and he looked at Angel with wide, gleeful eyes. A game. Now this, THIS he understood.

For once, Angel didn’t mind being a pawn. 

“Charlie is gonna flip her shit,” he said, shaking his head. The smile wouldn’t leave his face. Tears kept falling. Ma… Molly…

“And so are Lucifer, Lilith, all the overlords in Hell, and perhaps even Hades,” Rupert replied primly, straightening his back and folding his hands behind him. “We are playing a very dangerous game, my friends. Feel free to back out of your active roles now, should this be too much.”

“Oh,” Alastor purred, grin ghoulishly expanding. “I think, my dear fellow, that this has become so much more interesting, and I look forward to my participation in your little scheme.”

The two men shared a smirk; suddenly co-conspirators. Friends.

Aurelia cast Angel a worried expression, but he reassured her with a faint nod and a smile through his tears. 

Next step: Bring the Princess of Hell to the Underworld to meet with Queen Persephone.

Then… Angel could see his mother and sister again. 

A Demon finding sweet redemption, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Review 👁👄👁!!!
> 
> I love your comments so, so much! You don’t even know how much joy they give me.
> 
> Check out my shitty rendition of Queen Persephone’s Mad Song: https://youtu.be/0FOnd_wFF40
> 
> Very theatrical! 😂😭


	12. Break Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont ask me why I’m posting this at 4:50am on a Wednesday... -bags under eyes-
> 
> This is fine. Shut up. Shhh shhhhhhhhh
> 
> For Updates and general nonsense, feel free to follow me on Twitter @LadyInStarlight

He knew she would cry.

That was the best part.

He watched, a few paces back, as Charlie gazed out into that great expanse of space and shadow, staring— unblinking— at a world unlike any she had ever seen. Her eyes scanned the dark peaks rising in the far distance, studied the city formed of towering skyscrapers carved from black diamond, and widened at the sight of all those blue souls gliding past her in quiet contentment.

He loved seeing her take in this world, seeing her see the beauty he saw in every corner. The potential. The promise.

Quiet emotions flickered across her pale features, usually so expressive on her marionette face, but muted somehow in the shock of it all. Her gaze had drifted skyward, studying the bands of starlight that appeared colored in shades of pink, purple, blue, and something like eternity.

Wonder. She had never seen a place like this before.

Disbelief. She should have known it existed. Why hadn’t she known about this?

Sadness. Her family… they had kept this from her, despite knowing her goals and ambitions, despite knowing so many of their people fell each year to Angel blades. 

Love. This was it. This was perfect. This was what she had been searching for. A little different, certainly, but somehow…

“This… th-this is better than the heaven I imagined,” she said, and her words ended on a sob. The tears came, and when he went to comfort her he found the breeze, carrying pink petals on its back, had already coiled itself lovingly around her. He reached out and squeezed her hand, feeling the bloom of something precious in his chest; the petals of vicarious joy, love, and hope unfurling themselves within his heart. 

“I know,” he said, offering a small smile. Behind him, Alastor and Rupert bickered about something… likely stupid, and Aurelia chattered lightly to soothe Vaggie who clearly itched to be at Charlie’s side, but also didn’t want to ruin her girlfriend’s obvious wonderment with her own growing anxiety. “It’s not pearly gates, gold trumpets, and fluffy white clouds, but… I think it feels like redemption.”

Charlie’s lip quivered. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling in tiny rivulets down her cheeks. She shook, hand curling into a fist as she struggled to push down the waves of emotion that threatened to overtake her. So many questions. He could hear them bubbling up behind each tiny shutter of a sob. 

But instead of breaking under the weight of all that was new and magnificent, she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and beamed at him. She squared her shoulders and her face took on that optimistic, determined glow to which he had grown so accustomed. 

“This is going to be amazing!” She squealed, throwing her arms around Angel, hugging him tight. He hugged her back, thinking to himself that he had never seen her glow quite so much. “Angel… thank you.” The last two words were a whisper. 

He laughed. “Listen toots. No need t’ be thankin’ me just yet. All I did was get caught up in a … really fuckin freaky group of new pals. And honestly… like I said before, we got our work cut out f’us if we’re gonna make this shit happen. Ya dad ain’t gonna be keen on it and neitha’ would most of those power hungry fucks in hell.”

He trailed off, wincing slightly when he considered all the possible ways this shit could somehow… go terribly wrong. What if Persephone and Charlie… didn’t see eye to eye. The goddess seemed like she might be a bit… unpredictable. What if Hades… or Lucifer… or… 

Thankfully, Alastor’s arm hooked around his waist, claws digging into his hip like an anchor. The sharp jolt of the Radio Demon’s stinging touch relaxed him somehow. He could breath evenly again.

“Come now, my darlings,” Aurelia said, her voice a coaxing purr as she took Vaggie and Charlie’s hands tenderly in her own. Her steps took on that rolling panther gait. “Into the forest of shadows, oh so blue, we shall find the lady waiting in her temple.”

Angel noticed a small smirk tug at the corner of Rupert’s lips as he watched the three women take the lead, eyes narrowing slightly in unveiled interest. “What a pretty picture you paint, my dear,” he teased. “Always a pleasure to see the ladies lead.”

“You are insatiable and disgusting,” Aurelia said, unperturbed. Vaggie scoffed and Charlie flushed a bit, looking nervously between the pair. “Friends, my dear. Remember never with friends. We’ll not make that mistake again, and oh you have made Vaggie uncomfortable. Do ignore my husband and his lack of tact.”

Alastor pulled Angel a bit closer. “A cake-eater if I ever saw one,” he said, offering Aurelia a winning smile even as he put himself between Angel and Rupert. “No offense meant to you, my lady, but your sweetie is… a flirt.”

“Oh, we are both flirts,” Aurelia said with a shrug, eyes softening as she glanced back at Rupert. “Love, for us, is best shared, but we know most do not feel the same as we do. It has been the cause of many lost friendships. Disappointing to say the least.”

“He’s not my type,” Vaggie said simply, sharing a small chuckle with Charlie. 

“Nonsense! Aurelia and I are everyone’s type.” Rupert said, placing a hand over his heart with a feigned gasp of indignation. “Do not tell me you find me grating as this darling deer seems to do. I cannot handle anything less than glowing admiration.”

“Not everyone is up fa… anyone… or anything. If ya catch my drift,” Angel said, arching a brow. “Aurelia ain’t my type and ya ain’t Vaggie’s.” 

Rupert’s brow scrunched briefly before his eyes widened in realization. Then he and Aurelia shared one of those loud conspiratorial laughs. “Ohhhh, is that all?”

“Preference is preference, I understand,” Aurelia said. “Though, in terms of gender…”

“We like to bend it.” Rupert’s tone sweetened, taking on a strange sugary lull.

“And sex.” Aurelia’s voice sounded suddenly deeper, all the class but with a husky rasp.

“We can break it.” Spoken together.

They shifted then, as if it were nothing— as if their bodies were made of clay to be morphed and played with at will. Vaggie and Charlie both sprang back in surprise as Aurelia did away with her willowy figure, lengthened, and reformed herself into the picture a tall, dark, and handsome man, slim but strong, with cheekbones high and a jawline sharp as glass. His coal eyes glanced back at them from under a fan of lashes, a single brow arching in playful charm. Black hair, shorter now, in a rather sophisticated and conservative cut. That predatory gait suddenly made Angel’s heart thud a little faster. How the fuck… HOW?! “Aurel, at your service,” he said, the words a low hiss, stopping and offering a refined bow with an arm behind his back. “Roxanne, my darling. Lovely as ever in this form.”

Rupert’s… or rather Roxanne’s… silhouette had the curves of an hourglass, facial features melded into something soft and terrifyingly beautiful like one of those glamorous Hollywood starlets back in the golden age. They laughed together again, just as musical as before, and came together like two swans, floating alongside one another. 

Aurel offered an arm, which Roxanne took, and they leaned in to kiss tenderly before leading the group into a forest of black trees, barren branches, and blue shadows.

“You are both… very powerful,” Charlie said decisively. “Aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely we are,” Roxanne said, lips twitching with a smile as she leaned against Aurel. “But here in the Underworld, this ability is fairly standard. What use is there for limitations when one is a soul? One should be as they wish to be at any given moment, as they feel inside, and let the restraints of the living world be damned. Oh, my darling deer, I see you twitching. Must you be polite to me now that I am a fair lady? Ah, your principles damn you. How exhilarating! I shall endeavor to make myself a woman every time we argue just to exasperate you!”

“Do not be cruel, my darling,” Aurel purred. “Every time is too much.”

“Half at the very least.”

“A third would be more reasonable.”

Angel listened to them bicker sweetly a while longer before focusing his attention on Alastor. What they had… it sure as hell wasn’t as perfect, or as synchronized as Aurelia and Rupert’s relationship, but he thought perhaps that was just fine by him. 

He didn’t mind that things were a bit… messy.

He remembered a recent conversation with Marjorie; brief and spurned by a passing comment he made about Aurelia and Rupert being… perfect together. As he recalled, Marjorie had said: “Angel, never feel the need t’ compare yourself t’ those two. Some people have a loud, flashy kind of love, and others... have the quieter sort.” And then she had looked off somewhere in the distance and Jax smiled at her. “One is not better than the other. You will have the love that is right for you.”

He would have the love that was right for him…

The claws teasing along his waist had him trembling, each little sharp prick of pain a reminder of exactly how much he wanted to just be alone with Alastor, to decompress in his arms, and to let the weight of all this... change… crash over him while the Radio Demon plowed him into the mattress. 

Yeah, that was definitely exactly what he fucking needed.

So maybe Vaggie and Charlie were two turtle doves; Aurelia and Rupert a pair of swans; and he and Alastor… a feral crow and a… something.

No. A “little red popinjay” and a something… what kind of bird was HE, goddammit? Alastor had so many fuckin bird options. The more he thought about it, the more frustratingly stupid it became, to the point of almost ludicrous. He smiled to himself when Alastor caught his eye, gaze curious. “Just… uh, thinking what kinda birds we are. Al, what kinda bird am—,”

Alastor didn’t miss a beat. “Why, you’re a Flamingo, mon cher.” 

Oh, oh yeah that made sense. Too much sense. A fuckin flamingo. “So a little red popinjay and a flamingo then…” he said, biting back a laugh, and then yelping when a clawed hand pinched his ass. “Awe come on, Smiles. Ya know it’s spot on.”

Alastor opened his mouth to argue, but then they stepped out into a clearing in the dark, blue wood, and all words seemed to fade away. The temple was small, unkempt, and wild; a collection of crumbling white columns and Grecian beauty long-forgotten. The green… the green caught their eyes the most. Flowering vines climbed along every surface, creating a rooftop canopy across the caved-in parts of the stone ceiling; a collection of blossoms in muted versions of unique colors for the underworld—yellows, reds, teals, and oranges— grew in thick clusters along pillars and across walls like tapestries. Muted… not so vivid. Not so clear. An effort at variation that failed because the petals carried a tinge of shadow. 

Persephone sat in the center of the temple, speaking quietly to a pair of blue souls from her seat in a stone throne surrounded by jasmine and thyme. She was shaking her head and the souls left, dejected.

“Ah, ever the cruel mistress, rejecting the pleas of young love!” Rupert said, shifting seamlessly back into his original… was this the original?... form. His tone was playful, certainly, but quite more subdued than usual. “Did you not see fit to sanction the union?”

Charlie looked confused, and then worried. “Your people need… to ask your permission to marry?” She said. Angel could read her concern, the intimidation growing with each step closer to the towering goddess.

Persephone gazed down at them, chuckling softly. Her eyes fell on Charlie, head tilting to the side. “Greetings, my Saplings. So this is the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. Lovely. And you have come with a beloved and a protector. Very sweet. No, my little demoness, they requested permission to become Soulbound. Not a marriage. They are two very different things, my dear. Marriage may break your heart, but Soulbinding … well, that will break your mind. Hahaha!”

The laughter, broken and wild as it was, did little to deter Charlie, who seemed to relax a bit. Angel supposed that maybe this was easier for her. More familiar. She could deal with crazed and powerful. That was half of hell in a nutshell. 

“Soulbinding can be beautiful, your grace,” Aurelia said, having shifted in unison with Rupert. “For two who move in tandem.”

“Mmm,” Persephone smiled that strange twisted smile, all sharp teeth. Sadness. She had such sadness in her eyes. “Aurelia, I envy how weightless you remain with shackles on your feet.”

“So long as I am connected to Rupert, I will wear them proudly,” Aurelia said, and she bowed low to kiss the Goddess’s hand. “But better those who know not what they ask for never receive this gift, for it can be a curse to most.”

“What is this… soulbinding?” Charlie asked, looking between them with growing curiosity, bouncing at the opportunity to learn something new— especially something romantic. “We don’t have anything… like that in Hell.”

“It’s… A mind link. A connection. A weaving of two souls. It’s feeling and knowing one another truly and completely, becoming one and separate at the same time. And no matter what happens, you shall always— even in the chance that you are separated by realms, death, or life— find each other once again.” Aurelia said softly, taking Rupert’s hand.

“That sounds… so romantic!” Charlie cried, gushing a bit.

“The rose may smell sweet, but to pluck her without care may result in the wrath of her thorns,” Persephone laughed, and it was a hard broken sound. She sang then, a sweeter, more lulling song than the previous jaunt in the Hive. A sad song…

_“When I was young and beautiful,  
When I was sweet and soft and fair,  
Flowers woven through my hair,  
Love came to me. _

_And oh, it was bittersweet,  
That we chanced to meet,  
For a moment’s time;  
Quite different from the rhyme. _

_In shadows on a moonlit night,  
When pink flowers bloomed just right,  
To scent the breeze,  
The underworld enveloped me. _

_He wove me in his web,  
Took me to his bed,  
promised me the world;  
Made a woman of a girl. _

_Too soon. I wasn’t ready yet.  
Too soon. I didn’t know myself. _

_I’d been sheltered from the sunshine,  
Hidden from the gaze,  
Of gods who played cruel games,  
So I knew not what I had found,  
Until I was... Soulbound. _

_Break your mind._

_Imagine this:  
The thoughts that race through your head are not your own. _

_Break your mind._

_Imagine this:  
No matter where you go, no place feels like home. _

_Break your mind._

_You’re breathing. You’re screaming.  
You’re begging and you’re pleading.  
Sanity is the sanctuary of his arms. _

_Break your mind._

_So you make promises you should not keep.  
You sell your soul for him to reap;  
Play the game, trick the gods,  
Eat the seeds, your freedom lost. _

_Break your mind._

_Kisses like pomegranate seeds;  
So bittersweet.  
Now it burns to eat,  
a melancholy treat. _

_Break your mind._

_You’ll drive yourself mad...  
Trying to protect your mind from the darkness all around.  
His shadows abound.  
He’s watching. Cant make a sound.  
He’s knowing... what ya won’t say aloud._

_Break your mind,  
So he cannot hear. _

_Break your mind.  
Nothing left to fear. _

_Break your mind._

_Break your mind!  
Break your mind! _

_Hahhahahahaha”_

It ended on a laugh like a sob, the two sounds so intermingled. Laughter and crying. Aurelia and Rupert shared a fleeting look of concern when Charlie wrapped her arms around the goddess, hugging her tightly. 

But comfort, it seemed, was not meant merely for mortal souls, and Persephone did not rebuff the kindness, nor did she spurn the genuine urge to help that propelled Charlie forward. She seemed startled at first, but her eyes softened, and he saw a glow of warmth return to the parts of her that were strangely cold.

And he saw gratitude. 

Angel knew, then, that whatever happened he would not regret his involvement in this. He would not regret bringing Charlie to the Underworld.

They would introduce some color into this landscape— some light into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Review 👁👄👁
> 
> I think there will likely be some smut next chapter. Angel needs some stress relief dick. 
> 
> Shit Garbage Recording of Original Song ‘Break Your Mind’: https://youtu.be/EveQJUa2gWA
> 
> ^This will give you an idea for the melody and tone of the song, but it can be twisted. 
> 
> As with any of my original songs, feel free to sing it, play with it, and do whatever ya want with it. Just credit me and tell me about it so I can gush over you and cry with happiness. Literally, I will cry.


	13. Ma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Biting, Anxiety

Alastor bit him.

Not in a sexy, playful way. No. In a “bitch, have you lost your mind ‘cause I’ll help you find it” kinda way. Which was a fair enough reaction to being pounced, dragged into a bathtub, scrubbed vigorously, and dressed against his will in a new outfit he did NOT sign off on by six arms working in tandem.

Angel took solace in the fact that Alastor only resorted to teeth when the shears came out, and afterwards he licked Angel’s shoulder, grudgingly but apologetically, while the spider demon ranted and raved about him needing a fucking haircut. He refused, but did agree to tie it back in a particularly pleasing way that made Angel’s heart skip a beat. You win some, you lose some. 

Today was the day he got to see Ma and Molly, and really he could not have been more thrilled. 

Or more fucking anxious.

He knew his ma would love Alastor— really, he did. His fella, for all his faults, was a charming good-looking son of a bitch with all the swagger and honeyed words to make an excellent first impression. Unfortunately, Aurelia had hinted yesterday that she and Rupert MIGHT have met his Ma before, and they MIGHT be friends with her… and maybe she hadn’t mentioned it until just now because his Ma happened to work directly under Persephone and it ‘wasn’t time yet.’

Whatever the fuck that meant.

Then Rupert had proceeded to flirt with Aurelia in Italian and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Don’t compare yourself to them,” Marjorie had reminded him over and over again. 

But he couldn’t help it.

He was so used to being… a disappointment. Sure, his ma loved and babied all her fucking children, but he never did bring home a nice Italian girl like his ma always wanted. He lived his life doing the opposite of what she wanted for her bambini and died a drug-addicted mafia goon. Worst of all, he went to hell. She had to be disappointed in him. He wanted everything to be perfect when he saw her. He wanted to make her proud… for once. 

The bite on his shoulder burned pleasantly. The ache distracted his racing mind from thoughts that wouldn’t stop tumbling around and around and around. 

The tongue against his skin made him shiver. He ran his hands over Alastor’s ears, enjoying the way the silky fur slipped between his fingers. “I’m so fuckin’ nervous, Daddy,” he finally said, voice coming out smaller than he would have liked. It felt like a weight off his chest to admit the truth aloud. Alastor’s arms tightened around his waist. He noted a brief flash of concern in those crimson eyes. Uncertainty?

He didn’t need a mind link to read those micro-expressions. He’d come to realize that Alastor’s eyes often gave away his true feelings. Ignore the smile and watch the eyes. They seemed to say: Wait, are you ashamed of me?

“It ain’t got nothin’ t’ do with ya, Al. I promise,” he said, tightening his legs around the other man’s waist and squirming contently in his lap. “I just… I’ve been such… failure. When I see her I want her ta… t’ feel… proud of me. I want everythin’ t’ be picture fuckin perfect, ya know?”

“Bushwa, Mon Ange!” Alastor beamed. “Why, I’m sure you mother will be more than thrilled just seeing your smiling face once again. This reunion will be spectacular! Moving! Magnificent! Don’t let these heebie jeebies put a damper on your excitement. Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one.” He pinched Angel’s cheek, kissing him chastely. 

Angel couldn’t help but smile.

When he looked around the room, the deep purple shadows flickering under blue tinted light brought his mind some solace. Staying the night in the Underworld after their eventful meeting with Persephone the day before had been the right choice. Charlie, ever eager to immerse herself, had received a tour of the Underworld while he and Alastor… well, they went on their own little adventure; One that involved slow dancing, jazz, and food that tasted pleasant instead of just bearable. 

“One day we gotta go on a fuckin’ drive through the Underworld. See some of the different places there are t’ see. Aurelia says it’s… endless… and… ‘varied’,” Angel whispered, closing his eyes. Wouldn’t that be fuckin perfect? He could imagine the wind whipping through his hair, seeing all of this realm he loved so much stretching out before him. A map with no end. Possibilities. So many options. “And then I also wanna go t’ New Orleans with ya. Bet ya’d like that, huh, Smiles?”

Alastor was silent for a moment. His eyes softened, simmering with warmth. “My dear,” he said, tone measured. Careful. “I’m just pleased to finally be part of your future plans.”

Oh. He bit his lower lip, kissed the Radio Demon in a silent apology, and tightened his thighs around him. The truth was that until Alastor pulled that little stunt, following him on a job, he had been keeping his heart somewhat distant from the other man. He underplayed the importance of their relationship, told himself it was too soon, that it wasn’t serious, and tried to overlook the depth of this powerful connection they both felt.

Because part of him knew that if he had to CHOOSE between Hell and the Underworld, he would choose the Underworld, even if that meant leaving people he loved behind. Part of him knew a relationship filled with secrets was bound to disintegrate, as surely as flesh to ash, and that what he had with Alastor— though precious— would not survive if he could not be open and honest with this man he loved.

He could make a place for Alastor in his dreams now, and the realization that he had not truly done so before broke his heart.

“I’ll make it up t’ya, hot stuff. I promise,” he said, biting back a moan as sharp claws dug into his ass. Pain like a promise. He wanted more… “B-but right now, I need ya t’ rememba’ somethin’ like 57 facts about my Ma. Likes and dislikes. Dos and don’ts. Ya won’t hafta worry about Molly. She and I, we was always two peas in a pod. She’s my twin. If I like ya, she’ll like ya, and I liked ya the moment I first saw ya.”

“You’re a twin?”

“Yeah yeah. Anyways, first thing’s first: Don’t mention my brotha’.”

“Who? What? Angel— ”

“It’ll start her on a tangent about family, and I don’t wanna explain our feud and shit t’ her. Also, don’t mention that you’re a fuckin cannibal, fa fuck’s sake. Oh fuck! Don’t tell her I was a stripper, a whore, and a pornstar. Alastor, don’t tell my mama NONE of that! And also call me Anthony, or Tony fa short. And… I can’t call ya Daddy… and…” His heart sank. “Fuck, Smiles. I gotta write some of this shit down.”

And so he scrambled out of his gaping boyfriend’s lap and began planning his web of lies. 

Ma was big in a lot of ways— big hair, big voice, big personality— but she stood no taller than 5’2” even in her spider form. They recognized each other immediately, and the enthusiastic twang of her nasally voice, so pitchy and dramatic with its thick New York accent, brought tears to his fuckin eyes. Fran Drescher could eat her heart out. His Ma was the original for this way of talkin’.

Her hugs were big. Her kisses were big. She turned his face this way and that, crying big tears. “Tony, ya look so handsome. I missed ya so much. So so much. My poor baby trapped in that terrible, terrible place.” She rubbed the tears from his eyes with pale white hands. “Moll is runnin’ late. That girl can’t eva’ get anywhere on time.”

Angel laughed. They stood together in a Hive conference room, a small space lit by soft blue lighting. He wore a suit, something more… conventionally “masculine”. Gray. Tailored but not tight. No showing off his fluffy tits, that was for damn sure. It felt uncomfortable. Stuffy. He hoped Alastor would rip it off his body later— would tear it to pieces. 

He knew the Radio Demon was waiting patiently in the lobby, giving him some time alone with his mother before he entered to make his introductions. 

They sat next to each other at a round table. He had the words all planned out, but they died in his throat as he looked into those smiling magenta eyes. Ma… his ma. How could he lie to his Ma’s face. How could he ever explain? He didn’t want to tell the truth, but he didn’t want to lie. 

So, instead, he got her talking about herself. It was a little difficult, redirecting and averting her questions, but he managed it with a smile. He didn’t have to fake his enthusiasm either. He wanted to know everything. Everything.

Ma was happy. Ma worked for Lady Persephone in the “redistribution center”, whatever that was. His sister, Molly, was apparently something of a pop-star in The Underworld and his ma worried about her safety with all those overzealous fans. He almost winced. Overzealous fans in the Underworld? Damn, if his Ma knew even a fraction of the nasty ass shit in his fuckin fan mail she would flip. 

He gave her fragments of information, small pieces of the whole. Charlie. The Happy Hotel. His feisty friend Cherri and all her moxy. Then he mentioned he had… a boyfriend and his ma leapt on that nugget of information about as ravenously as a seagull on a French fry. He never came out to her in life. Not officially. Her immediate acceptance set his heart at ease.

“Oh Tony, that’s wonderful! Is he a nice catholic boy? Who’s his mother. Do I know her?” She asked, eyes wide and voice shrill with enthusiasm.

“Ma?!” Angel sputtered, nearly choking on his own surprise. “How could anyone be Catholic afta’ death? Why does that matter? And of course ya don’t know her... he ain’t a boy from the neighborhood, fa Christ’s sake.” 

“Oh god... Tony, is he even Italian?!”

And just like that, the tension of seeing his mother after decades apart crumbled away and he was just a son bickering with his ma in a state of complete exasperation. 

The rift of time dissolved in an instant. 

“Ma, I’m sorry, but he ain’t Italian. Not even a little,” he said between soft baffled chuckles. “But you’ll like him—”

The door swung open then. Molly flounced into the room on the Radio Demon’s arm, looking as vibrant and lively as Angel remembered her. Alastor pulled out her chair, smile broad and congenial, oozing that magnetic charm that made Angel weak in the knees. “Ma, lookie what I found. Tony snatched himself a regular Prince Charmin’! There I was dealin’ with some pushy nitwit when this handsome fella showed up and scared him right away— told him it was rude to pester a lady and that if he didn’t scadaddle he’d be eatin his next three meals through a straw.”

Alastor laughed. “Happy to be of service,” he said, eyes flicking to Angel’s mother. “Greetings, Madam. What a pleasure it is to finally make your acquaintance. Alastor is the name! My Angel has told me so much about you.”

“Ain’t that sweet? He calls Tony his Angel!” Molly gasped, clapping her hands. Angel tried not to panic.

Alastor didn’t miss a beat. “Ah yes. Anthony este mon ange,” He purred, the French rolling sweetly off his tongue. He took Angel’s hand in his own and kissed it lightly. “Parce qu'il est trop bon pour moi.”

Ma’s eyes brightened.

Angel knew the flush had taken over his cheeks and most of his chest. He almost drew back, worried about making his mother uncomfortable with a display of affection towards another man, but the delight in her eyes was unquestionable. He could breath easier now. 

“Yeah, he’s a silver-tongued flatterer, alright,” he said, watching Alastor take a seat across from him at the round table. He turned to Molly then and wrapped his arms around her. “And I’m glad he was there t’ protect ya too. Moll, I missed ya so fuckin much. Ma tells me you’re some kinda star. I’m happy fa ya, but ya tell me if any fellas give ya trouble. I’ll wreck ‘em.” Alastor arched a brow, the corners of his grinning lips twitching. Angel rolled his eyes. “You can come too, Smiles, though why ya don’t trust me not t’ get hurt is beyond me.”

“Because ya shouldn’t be involved in nothin’ violent. He’s right t’ be worried! Look at that face. Ya musta got real hurt fa him t’ look like that!” Ma said, shaking her head. 

“T’ look like… how can ya…” Angel sputtered and kicked his boyfriend under the table. Stupid smiling bastard. His mother could see right through him! “Listen, it wasn’t a big deal. Nothin violent. I just jumped before I shoulda… only two weeks outta commission in the Underworld and then a bit over a week of bed rest in hell.”

“WHAT?!” Both Molly and his Ma shouted the word in unison. Alastor’s eyes seemed to shine with glee, that Cheshire Cat grin ever-widening. He leaned back and crossed his arms, clearly feeling validated for once. 

More chattering. More bickering. More laughter. 

“How’d ya two get together,” Molly asked, propping her face in her hands. “Was it romantic?”

Fuck.

The memory of a gloved hand smacking his bare, upturned ass in a bar full of watching onlookers flashed across his mind. How could he fuckin spin that? How could he explain?

Alastor cut in effortlessly. “Ha! Not in the slightest,” he said. “After I became an investor at the Happy Hotel, I unfortunately treated my Angel with far less care than he rightfully deserved. We did not get along particularly well, you see, but I consider myself exceedingly lucky that he gave me a chance to court him properly despite my initial poor behavior.”

Right answer. Perfect.

“Where’s your brother, Tony?” Ma asked. The question caught him off guard.

“W-what? What about Niss?”

“Where is he? Why ain’t he redeemed with ya? Are ya helpin him?” She frowned and looked at Alastor. “I’m sure he’d come around if ya both talked some sense int’ him. How did he look—“ A pause. She studied Alastor’s impassive features. “He hasn’t met him, has he? Why hasn’t your brotha’ met your fella?”

Molly studied Angel, blinked rapidly, and tried to change the subject. “Hey Tony, I’ve got a show—“

“Tony, when’s the last time ya saw your brotha’?” His ma asked, frowning now.

Angel groaned. “I dunno, ma,” he said, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “30 years… give or take? Niss and I don’t—”

“Brothas are supposed ta love eachother! You mean ta tell me that ya haven’t been takin’ care of your brotha’!?” His mother… she yelled big too. Her voice bellowed throughout the room and down the hallways. She would never need a megaphone even in a crowd. He winced. “Tony, I raised ya betta’ than that! And here I was thinkin’ all this time ‘well at least my two precious baby boys are watchin’ out fa eachotha’ in that terrible, terrible place’. Now you listen ta me, young man, you’re gonna get your brotha’ and save his immortal soul or I swear ta god you’ll break your motha’s heart. Do ya wanna be responsible fa breakin your motha’s heart?!”

“No, Ma,” he said, sinking the his chair while his tiny mother berated him. “I’ll… I’ll talk t’ Niss.” 

When he looked across the table to make eye contact with Alastor, he found the Radio Demon had vanished from his seat. “Daddy?” The small, anxious little word left his lips before he could stop it. 

God dammit. 

His mother blinked in confusion. Molly giggled.

Then clawed hands squeezed his shoulders from behind. “Right here, my dear. Now, I think it’s high time we took this visit on the road. Come, ladies. No more somber discussions! And don’t you worry, madam, I will personally see to it you are soon surrounded by all of your children!”

Thank Hades for Alastor’s pep and spark. He swept the two women up on a current of enthusiasm for an outing, magicked them up some “glad rags”, and put on a show of theatricality and laughter as he swept them all from the Hive. 

“My brother and I fuckin hate eachotha’,” he said to Alastor at some point over the course of the evening while his mother and sister happened to be in the restroom of a cinema. “I can’t… fuck, that’s just an extra fuckin thing I don’t wanna… deal with right now, ya know?” The Radio Demon sat beside him, considering his words. 

“One problem at a time, Mon Ange,” he said decisively, claws gliding along his hip. “We will worry about your brother AFTER we have dealt with more pressing matters.” Angel sighed and nodded, leaning against the Alastor’s shoulder as the previews ran. “Why add color to a picture show?” 

Angel shrugged and smiled. 

“Let’s… go on an adventure t’morrow, Al. Just… you and me,” he said softly.

Alastor bit him.

This time in the sexy way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Review


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